Shattered Surrender
by sick-atxxheart
Summary: They had expected to find a little boy, a broken child, ready to come to the light. They had been wrong. An unexpected relationship with Bellatrix Lestrange and the Dark Lord while in Azkaban leads Harry to find new power and purpose. Dark!Harry
1. Survival

**Shattered Surrender  
**_by sick-atxxheart  
_Chapter One

--

_Voices, voices. Cold, cold. Screams, screams. Mommy, Daddy, Harry. Cold, cold. Dark, dark. Hurts, hurts._

The boy lay in the corner of the dark cell, shaking from the cold, the hunger, and the pain. His dark hair was matted against his forehead from sweat, and in his chest there was the deep rattle of illness. On one side, there was a wall; on the other three, there were gates he could see through. Against the one cold stone wall he lay, shivering and crying; but never did he make more than a small sound, because that would bring more pain, and even he understood that concept. More pain and more suffering-

The boy gasped and closed his eyes tightly, shutting his world off even farther. The Dementors were coming again, and with their shadowy, imaginary voices he knew he would fall deeper and deeper into despair. Deeper, deeper into nothingness, into feeling nothing and being nothing.

_Deeper, deeper. Nothing, nothing. Hurts, hurts._

Harry Potter was the world's savior no longer.

--

Harry's screams shook the silence of Azkaban prison, as the Dementors had already left the high security ward and all that could be heard beyond them was the insane mutterings of other prisoners. But Harry had fallen victim to what he had always tried to avoid- sleep had come and claimed its prisoner, and now the nightmares were the enemy he was running from.

Harry's body shook once more, and without a conscious thought his hands reached up to grasp the scar on his forehead. A scream ripped through his lips, pain-filled and tormented- a scream that went beyond just feeling; it was fear, and pain, and longing, and desperation, all wrapped into one. A scream so full of agony that it couldn't be described by words alone; but Harry lived it, and so Harry screamed, and screamed, and screamed.

Because all he could do was remember, and his only wish was that he could forget.

--

_"Where's Harry? Where's Harry?" Lily cried playfully, putting her thin hands in front of Harry's face and waving them happily. "Where is he?"_

_Harry cried out happily, "Here, Mommy! Right here!"_

_Lily smiled, and picked Harry up in one huge swoop, flipping him into the air over her shoulder. She danced around playfully, swinging him around, Harry's joyful laughs filling the air. _

_--_

_"Harry! No!" _

_Lily's scream pierced the air, and it was all Harry could do to sit and watch. He couldn't do anything- he didn't know magic, and he was a small boy. He watched the bad man come through the house, his wand pointed out menacingly, right at Mommy's heart- he had heard screams downstairs, were those Daddy's? Why wasn't Daddy here, helping Mommy fight this bad man?_

_A green light filled the air, and he knew no more._

_--_

_Harry remembered crying, and he remembered being hugged gently by an old man, who told him everything would be okay, he was a good boy, and not to worry. Harry hadn't believed him._

_For awhile, all he lived through was loneliness. Until Dark Magic had been discovered in him, and he had been thrown into a hellhole he had been told was called Azkaban. _

_He remembered that day._

_--_

_"Freak!" The word was screamed at him, and Harry shook with fear. He had already been slapped enough times to realize that something was wrong, deadly wrong- Mommy and Daddy had never, ever hit him, but Mommy and Daddy were gone now, weren't they?_

_More words had been screamed, and he hadn't caught them all. But Harry knew they all meant the same thing. He was nothing. He was no one. No one wanted him, and no one would love him- ever. He wasn't deserving of life. He was nothing, and he was bad._

_Being thrown into a cold, pitch-black room had been bad enough. Harry had always hated darkness. But then- two huge men had come in after him, smiling menacingly. Their bodies had just been lit up by the now- shutting door; and then, Harry had heard the one word he had come to hate more than any other._

_"Crucio."_

_Pain, earth-shattering pain- for what seemed to be an eternity, a millennium- it surpassed Harry's knowledge of what life, and pain, could and was- and he seemed to forget everything, in that moment in time- because the pain was everything, and there was nothing else. How could there be?_

_There was, in all reality, nothing but the darkness, the cold, the fear, the hunger, and the pain. _

_And Harry knew it would never, ever change._

--

Harry's screams still hadn't slowed, she mused. Usually his nightmares only lasted a few minutes, if that- and then he would wake himself up and cry for a good ten minutes, before withdrawing back into himself. But this time- the screams had been going on for a good five minutes now, and showed no signs of stopping. This worried her.

Bellatrix Lestrange had always hated children, and had never treated them fairly- but little Harry was different, and hearing his screams always stirred something in her she didn't quite understand.

"Child!" Her hiss pierced the still, cold blackness of the cells, and she leaned her dirty face against the grate between their cells. She had been pretty, once. She couldn't quite remember.

"Child! Wake up, Harry! Wake up!" Bellatrix's voice got increasingly louder as she saw the hopelessness of her situation. She was just about to give up when Harry gave a final shake, and those beautiful emerald eyes opened.

"Bella?" He whispered sleepily, wiping away his tears quickly, embarrassed. "What-"

"You were screaming again," she whispered urgently. "Nightmares."

Harry nodded slowly, sighing and rubbing his arm gently. There was dried blood on his arm, as usual; ever since the first day, the torture had never stopped. He couldn't, and didn't, understand what was wrong with him.

After all, why tell a prisoner what their crime was?

As the memories of what he had dreamed about came flooding back, Harry couldn't hold back the tears. He looked hard at the woman in the next cell before whispering out a "Thank you, Bella…". He moved back into his corner and curled up in a little ball, his sobs just audible.

Bella watched the retreating form of the little boy, and felt her heart squeeze. She was a hateful person- she was mean, and horrible, and cruel, and she had no problem admitting it- she knew she even deserved to be in this hell- but Harry didn't. Harry had done nothing wrong, and he was suffering.

In all truth, she didn't know how much longer he would survive.

--

**Harry is about eight years old. Voldemort's downfall was when he was about one or two, and Lily and James died. He was thrown into Azkaban at about age seven, when Dark Magic was discovered in him. He's about eight now.**

**This story will _not_ be slash. There may not even be any pairings involved.**

**Please review.**


	2. Nightmare

**Shattered Surrender  
**_by sick-atxxheart  
_Chapter Two

--

The night had been cold, but Harry's shivers weren't anything new to him. Shoved in a small closet underneath the stairs, a thin blanket was his only source of warmth; long ago, Harry had learned to respect the fact that his mother's sister and her family hated him with a passion.

The room smelled oddly of spiders and dust, and from the tiny crack beneath the doorway Harry could tell that it was almost morning. Soon, very soon, his Aunt Petunia would be around to pound on the door, screaming at him to make breakfast. Harry wasn't sure what normal children were treated like, but even in his small mind he had made the assumption that it wasn't like this. When Mommy and Daddy had been alive, they hadn't made him do anything, and they hadn't been mean to him.

Obviously, he hadn't been good enough for them to stay around. His Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon had told him that enough times already that he took it to be true. He had always been a bad little boy- and his parents were taken away because he was so bad.

Harry couldn't, and didn't want to, remember how many nights he had sat crying and hating himself because he was such a horrible person- a terrible child, a freak. That's why he had so readily accepted any punishment doled out by either Uncle Vernon or Aunt Petunia, or their fat son Dudley- because he deserved it, after all, didn't he? The more it hurt, the more he felt- and his tears were only signs of weakness, and he took punishment for that wordlessly also.

Harry, at his young age, didn't even notice the growing resentment that was inside of him. He had never truly felt loved- not that he remembered, anyway- and as he grew, the need for nurturing and someone to support him was also getting larger. But receiving that was like asking for a meal during a punishment- useless, and ultimately more painful than just waiting would be.

Harry learned, and he accepted what he was given; but he hated it.

As the long days went on, he moved closer and closer to cracking. Every punishment that was doled out- every horrible word that was spat at him with venom- each fueled the fire of anger that seemed to be burning inside of Harry, more and more each day. He could feel it, but he thought it was nothing- why shouldn't he feel some anger? (In all reality, Harry wondered why he couldn't simply feel nothing- after all, he was nothing.)

But one day, he snapped. The magic that flew out of his body, flinging his 'family' across the room, was nothing like he had ever felt before- fueled by anger and pain and want to escape, he felt _strong_. For the first time, Harry felt strong enough.

After that, there was no turning back. Within minutes, strange men had came and taken him away. "Dark magic", they called it. Harry was bad, they said. He had been bad, and he would be severely punished.

After that Harry no longer believed in love, or even hope. He believed in nothing.

--

The taunting laugh echoed over Harry's head, and he shuddered as the light enveloped him again, causing him more pain than he thought imaginable. A daily practice of the prison guards was to torture the Boy Who Lived- but his title had quickly changed into The Boy Who Lived and Went Wrong, as soon as he had gotten to Azkaban.

A strangled cry left his lips, and with a small bit of strength left Harry reached up and slapped his hand over his mouth. It was one thing to scream from memories and fear- it was another to scream from pain. Harry wanted himself to be anything but weak- because in hell there is no room for failure.

The only choice was being strong, and becoming stronger was Harry's goal. Eventually, he knew, he could- and _would_- escape.

--

"Harry?" Bella whispered quietly, her voice almost fearful. Harry had stopped crying long ago, and now he was blissfully silent- but she worried about him.

In this insanity, Bella didn't quite understand herself. She hated children- she hated them, hated them, hated them with a passion that almost no one else understood. Being close to Harry and caring about him was completely foreign to her- and she didn't quite know how to act. She was a Death Eater, for Merlin's sake! She was in Azkaban because she had tortured innocent people into insanity! Bella had no doubt that she herself truly was insane, because the idea that she was actually sane was just crazy. The Dementors had long ago given up pulling happy memories from her- instead, they just fueled the bad ones.

She wasn't sure what was worse.

She was pulled out of her reverie by the slight rustling sound of Harry lifting his head, and when she caught his eyes with hers the green in his glinted.

"We're going to get out of here, Bella," he whispered, his young voice sounding so full of malice and strength that she couldn't help but believe him. She, deep down, had no doubt that Harry Potter- the Boy Who Lived, regardless of his other names- had immense power within him.

Harry was continuing. "I'm not going to put up with this anymore, Bella. They're going to pay. They're going to pay for hurting me, and putting me here. They will pay, and soon."

Outside, the thunder cracked menacingly, and the Dementors glided on by.

--

Please review : ) Hopefully this chapter explained some things.

Thank you to **HNZ**, **bmatsea**, **Dany-DeathNote**, **Robert1000**, **Chi Vayne**, **Silo666**, **DebsTheSlytherinSnapeFan**, **graynavarre**, **Bellalover**, **WayDrifter**, **Jits**, **Irishfighter**, **search in all the wrong places**, **JWOHPfan**, **HikaruOfArrow**, **Musik Drache**, **javacap**, and **Slave2Writing** for their reviews. I really appreciate it!

Please review!


	3. Calling

**Shattered Surrender  
**_by sick-atxxheart  
_Chapter Three

_**A/N**: A quick, extremely important note for this chapter. Instead of Voldemort waiting till Harry's fourth year to be reborn as having an actual body, in this story he is 'reborn' before he gets the Death Eaters out of Azkaban. That timing is a little off too… in other words, this is an AU story, and just run with it. ;] Enjoy!_

--

Bella had been sleeping for once when she first felt it, and the elation she felt flow through her lifted her higher than anything else.

Her Dark Mark was burning, and that meant he was coming. He had called her, and he was coming. He was alive. He. Was. Alive.

Bella felt her mind condense into one thought, and it was almost painful. Her desperation for the Dark Lord, for her own Tom Riddle controlled her every thought, and frankly always had. Her obsession with him… his power, his cunning, his genius… it all called to her, and she couldn't help but screaming with elation and anticipation. He was coming. No longer would she be stuck in this hell… no longer would she be stuck in the torment that she faced daily.

Her scream was one of happiness for the first time in years, a feat she hadn't even thought possible in a place such as Azkaban. She rubbed her Dark Mark absentmindedly, reveling in the pain it brought her- because feeling something, anything, was better than feeling nothing like she had been for so many years. Having his call draw her was something she lived for, even if it meant even more pain. Anything coming from his lips, anything from him was special, and meant so much to her.

Bella could almost feel her eyes glaze over in anticipation, but she couldn't bring herself to care. Long ago she had accepted that she no longer had a hold on her sanity, and losing it had been something she had been determined to enjoy. The way her reason and common sense had slowly dripped away with each further moment, with each memory that was sucked away; the feeling of her desires and dreams being pulled away through her veins, leaving only the need for the Dark; the way all her hopes had been crushed, only to be replaced with things higher than she had ever imagined… she knew she was crazy, insane, and she didn't care.

Bella had just thrown her head back to laugh when a small voice came from across her cell.

"Bella?"

She turned her head quickly, shaken out of her reverie by Harry's almost desperate plea. He looked so forlorn- even since the last time she had thought that, he had gotten even worse. His face was thin and pale, and his entire body was shaking from cold and malnutrition. His beautiful green eyes had already dimmed considerably, and she could see the sparkle leaving them, fast. His clothes were ragged and worn; hers were the same way, but the simple fact that his were covered in blood from his own subconscious attempts to escape tore at her heart. Azkaban was obviously no place for a child, and even though Bellatrix wouldn't deny that she barely had a heart anymore, she still felt for the child.

She had long ago discovered that trying to escape was futile, and for a long time her hands had bled with her attempts at clawing at the chains and shackles that bound her. It had taken her a long time to accept that fact, and once she did her life grew even more desolate. There was no point. Back then, she had still had enough of her mind left to sit and think about what she had done wrong, or right for that matter. She hadn't come up with much. The Dementors made sure of that- and even though they forced every bad memory onto her, she took power from the fact that she wanted to be Dark. She had chosen it, and she lived it, and she wanted it.

Through her insanity, she still figured that the desire for Dark was still there. That fact had been proven by the way her body pulsed when her Dark Mark burned, the way she could barely control herself…

"Bella?" Harry whispered again, his green eyes pleading and his hand reaching out to her. "What is it? Please…"

She tried not to feel pain for him as she pulled herself over next to the bars that divided them. She gently took his hand through the cage and petted it slowly, reaching through to smooth down his forever unruly hair. "He's coming, baby," she whispered softly as Harry slumped back, his eyes closed. "He's coming."

--

Four long days they had to wait, and Bella kept track with the determination of a mathematician. The marks on the wall in her cell, made with what she considered to be her one possession, a rusty nail, now totaled farther than she had the drive to count. She knew it was four, though, and with every second that passed she grew more and more anxious.

Harry was getting worse and worse, and Bella wasn't quite sure why. She had no doubts that malnutrition and such a dark habitat, along with the crushing pressure of the ever-present Dementors, was surely not good for a growing boy. However, he had survived thus far, and she hadn't expected him to suddenly get worse. He had, though, and she was saddened by it- because while before she hadn't been sure how much longer he would make it, now she was absolutely positive Harry wouldn't be able to hang on to his life much longer.

The relief that encompassed her soul when her Dark Mark burned again was indescribable. She was elated, excited, screaming, happy- no one in the cells near her thought anything of her screams of joy, because screams were of course a normal part of living in Azkaban. But the sheer feeling of knowing that he was coming- he would be here, for only he was strong enough to get her out- he was coming, and she would be free.

She would be able to serve her Lord once again.

As anticipation filled her, she knew all she could do was wait. Almost without thinking Bella moved over once again to stroke Harry's hair. It had become her favorite pastime, because it relaxed her. She didn't quite want to admit to herself exactly how attached she had become to him, but she truly had. The child was broken, just like she was, and he didn't care how many people she had hurt or how many times she had been weak. He just wanted someone to care for him, and even though Bella barely knew it, she wanted someone to care for her too.

A sharp sound outside caused Bella to jump, and as fast as her weakened body along with the chains that bound her would allow she scrambled over to the front of her cage, which faced the hallway throughout the main part of the jail. Human guards never visited the cells, except once every night to deliver the meager portions of food considered meals, and the Dementors made no noise. It was the middle of the day, or so her estimations guessed- no guards would be coming through.

It had to be him.

Bella grasped onto the bars, her hands turning white from the force of which she was squeezing them. One second, two seconds- it seemed like hours before a figure finally turned the corner, and Bella nearly fainted when she saw him again.

Lord Voldemort. Tom Riddle. The Dark Lord. He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. You-Know-Who. He had so many names- but to Bella, he was Lord, and he was her everything.

"My L-Lord," she whispered, falling to her knees with a sickening crunch. She winced as pain shot through her weak legs from the impact, but she didn't care. He was here.

"Bellatrix." Voldemort's voice was cold and high, and she loved the sound of it- it was so different from what it used to be. He looked so different. His skin was a beautiful pale white, which contrasted greatly with the deep black of his robes. His slitted eyes were blood red and menacing, and they seemed to bore right through her.

"My Lord!" Bellatrix gasped again, her mouth open, her tone pleading. "Please, my Lord… please… I have always been faithful to you…"

Voldemort smirked, and with a wave of his hands the air crackled with the static of magic. "Stand back." His words were an order, not a request. Bella quickly complied, and with a bang the bars of her cell fell to the ground in shreds of dust. His power astounded her.

She stood as her shackles fell to the ground, and for the first time in years, Bellatrix Lestrange took a step as a free woman.

Voldemort had just turned to go to free the other prisoners when Bella, with a surge of confidence that she couldn't quite understand. "My Lord, please…"

When the tall figure turned around, ready to sneer and curse at the woman, he was stopped by her desperate gesture at the small child sleeping fitfully in the corner.

It didn't take long for the Dark Lord to recognize the boy, even under all the dirt and blood that covered his small, frail body. This was Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived.

With a sudden decision made, Voldemort scooped the child up into his arms, freed the other prisoners, and Apparated away into the night.

--

_It's still a little bit short, not quite as long as I would have liked, but it's alright. What did you think? A bit of a twist, I think. What should Voldemort do with Harry?_

_Please review._


	4. Healing

**Shattered Surrender  
**_by sick-atxxheart  
_Chapter Four

--

Voldemort wasn't quite sure what to feel as he watched the small child shake in front of him. He had certainly seen enough pain and death in his life to know that the boy was dying, and fast- and without proper medical treatment, it would inevitably be too late. An unbidden smirk rose onto the pale-faced man as he moved closer to the child to examine the lightning-bolt scar on his forehead.

It was almost pretty, Voldemort decided. It was a shame that Potter, of all people, was the one to carry it- but now, when said person was lying in front of him just moments away from death, it seemed almost selfish to think so cruelly. After all, he had been the one who had given him the scar in the first place.

Voldemort knew, without a doubt, that he had a decision to make and he had to make it fast. Just a few years ago he wouldn't have hesitated to watch the boy die in pain, as he surely would now if he waited any longer; but now, with Harry Potter at his disposal and his decision, his mind seemed to present a different option- one he couldn't help but lean towards.

The power that was still swirling around the boy was obvious. Voldemort had always thought that Azkaban killed a person's magic just as it killed your will to live and your happiness, but that seemed to not be the case with Potter. Voldemort was not a healer, and didn't pretend to be, but a quick diagnostic of the boy's magic told him it was still very much intact. It just didn't make sense- he had run the same test on Bellatrix, and she had shown to have barely any magic in her left. Magic did regenerate itself after enough time elapsed, but for the child to not lose any... it puzzled Voldemort to no end, and he couldn't help but be curious enough to want an answer. What was even more puzzling was that Potter was extremely powerful in the first place.

Potter shook again, his body lapsing into spasms that shook his small body to the bones. Voldemort flinched, reminded uncomfortably of a few memories he didn't wish to relive. Pushing those thoughts away, his sharp voice broke the silence. "Severus!" Quickly, the tall man turned his around to face the door, effectively blocking the shaking body from view.

The dark-haired man was in the room in a second, bowing down low respectfully. "Yes, my Lord?" He had learned by now not to assume anything, and he kept his words carefully controlled.

Voldemort's voice was purposefully cold as he stepped out of the way, guesturing sharply towards the bloody body of Harry Potter. "Your new patient," he said firmly, watching Severus' face flicker through emotions so fast he could barely define them. Recognition... anger... hatred... worry... and finally, the cool calmness that was Severus' normal demeanor broke through all the others, and before Voldemort even thought about reacting the dark-haired man had his wand out. Immediately the boy was levitated into the air gently and was following Severus' retreating form out the door.

Voldemort waited for Severus to notice his mistake, and it only took a few steps for him to do just that. Quickly he whipped around and was bowing on the floor in seconds, murmuring, "I'm sorry, my Lord. May I take the boy and heal him- I assume that is your intent?"

Voldemort's nod was carefully cold and calculated, and he could almost see Severus' sigh of relief. "Go. Heal him. Keep me updated." It was a small act of kindness, Voldemort knew, for him to let Severus go without punishment- but he rather liked the dark-haired man. He had been a good and loyal follower throughout the years, and Voldemort did not doubt that his job as a double agent on both sides was not easy. He knew that Snape was loyal to him, and always would be, and for that reason his want to punish the man had considerably weakened over the years.

Immediately Severus was gone, and Voldemort sat down on his high-backed chair to think further. His instinct to take the boy with him from the hellhole the world called Azkaban still confused him; but even as cruel and cold-hearted as he was, he knew the child was innocent.

_He reminds you of yourself_. His mind hissed at him angrily, the words spitting and spiteful. The Dark Lord immediately pushed them away, but even he couldn't deny the truth. Harry Potter was more similar to Tom Riddle- now, Voldemort- than either cared to admit.. but in reality, Voldemort wasn't even sure if Harry knew who he was. Voldemort's best guess was that the boy had been abused, and had suddenly used Dark Magic as protection.

_A willing mind to mold, a powerful force to be joined with, a world to destroy_. His mind whispered to him further, and he smirked at those words.

_What fun._

--

Severus Snape rubbed his eyes tiredly as he looked once again over at the small boy, who was sleeping across the room. The injuries he had sustained while in Azkaban were far beyond what a normal child should ever experience, and beyond that a normal child should have never been able to live with them. Severus knew Harry Potter was not a normal child. Severus hated it. The government in the Wizarding World was so corrupt- and he had never really realized the extent of that corruption until now.

He had been expecting anything else to show up when the Dark Lord moved out of the way- but to see Lily's son, Lily's son... that had shocked him the most, and he still wasn't quite sure how to deal with it. He had always promised himself that he would hate the boy for the rest of his life, because he should have been the one with Lily. But now that the small child was here, so broken, so lost... it seemed almost cruel to keep those feelings just for the sake of having them.

The boy truly was broken. His body had been near the point of death from starvation, cold, and injuries; and a quick glance in his mind using Llegimency had told Severus all he needed to know. Harry Potter's mind had been broken along with his body; there were random words swirling around in his head, a jumbled mess of nothingness and emptiness that really just didn't make sense.

Severus had worked hard to heal Harry's bodily injuries, but it hadn't been easy. Scars were already driven into his flesh, and if Severus wasn't wrong he guessed that they weren't all from Azkaban. Blood had been coated on his body, along with dirt and remnants of food that appeared to have been there for quite some time. His hair was a ratty mess, and his eyes were glazed over.

Severus was quite sure he didn't have a heart ever since Lily's death, but it appeared he did; for when he saw the so-called Boy-Who-Lived helpless and hopeless, it tightened quite painfully.

The dark-haired man's mind tried to keep telling him to hate the child, to let him die. The more logical part of his brain, however, told him that would not be wise; both because of the inevitable repercussions that would come, and because it wasn't humane.

_No_, Severus thought to himself. _He won't die. And from now on, I'll call him Harry._

--

_Am I dead? I have to be dead. It hurt so much. Where am I? I don't hurt anymore. This can't be real. Can it? It feels real. But it can't be. I must have died. I hope I died. That way I'd be with Mommy and Daddy again. I want to be with them, but they are dead. I have to be dead too to be with them. Am I dead? Oh, please let me be dead. But I don't feel dead. I feel alive, like I am.. sleeping. Or something like that. This can't be real. It doesn't hurt anymore... I hated that place. I hope I'm out of there. I hope I won't have to go back. Oh, please don't make me go back! Please... I'll die there. Am I already dead? I can't quite remember. I hope I died, that would be nice... Maybe someone helped me. But who would do that? No one cares about me. Mommy and Daddy cared about me. I think. But they're dead and gone now. And they aren't coming back. That's what they told me, a long time ago. And then they put me in Azkaban. With no one. But Bella, she was nice... she helped me. Where is Bella? Did she die too? Oh wait, I'm not dead. I think. Does that mean I am alive? I don't know. I can't tell. I don't really care. Where's Bella? She was nice to me... am I dead?_

Harry suddenly started, and Severus jumped. He had felt guilty about listening in on what the boy's thoughts were, but he was glad he did. It revealed just how badly the boy had been broken, and he had decided it wasn't quite as bad as he had thought. Harry could still put together semi-intelligent thoughts, even if they were short and choppy. He actually had quite a good grasp on language for a child so young. But from his words, Harry knew that no one cared- except Bella. That confused Severus, because he had known Bellatrix for years and would have never pegged her as kind, or caring, or even mildly maternal.

Perhaps he had been wrong.

The matter at hand, however, was that Harry's bright green eyes were open. Severus stayed completely still as he watched the child try to adjust to the different light; he knew that in Azkaban there was no light, and that would have been quite a change. Without a word, magic flew out from Severus and dimmed the lights. Harry seemed to almost come to in that moment, and the simple words that were whispered shook Severus to the core. Its quiet desperation and pleading was so timid and frail that it pulled at Severus's heartstrings. Those simple words were the last thing he was expecting.

"Bella? Am I dead?"

--

**_I'm not a big fan of this chapter, it's rather short, but please review all the same. I can't decide whether to make Harry bond further with Bella, or to develop a strong mentor-ish relationship with Voldemort. Or both! Please give me your opinions ;]]_**


	5. Discovery

**Shattered Surrender  
**_by sick-atxxheart  
_Chapter Five

**_A/N-_** Just a quick note to answer some questions- obviously, this is an AU fic. Harry is about eight years old. Sirius is in Azkaban, but Harry didn't know that, and the older man was kept in a different part of the prison. Hope that clears some things up!

--

Severus' heart nearly stopped as he stared at the boy, and when it re-started it was almost beating out of his chest, it seemed. The child looked so innocent, so _helpless_, and as a human being Severus' first instinct was to comfort and soothe Harry. However, every time he was about to put that plan into action, the boy's huge green eyes struck him like a sword in the side. He was Lily's child- innocent, perfect Lily… and her very son had just asked for comfort from the Wizarding World's most dangerous witch.

The irony of it almost tasted sweet in his mouth.

It took a few moments for Severus to return to his senses, and when he did he found that Harry had fallen asleep again. Severus couldn't help but breathe a sigh of relief- even though he was a teacher, dealing with children had never been his strong point. Although Harry's slumber did not look particularly peaceful, the boy looked much better now that most of his wounds were healed. Ugly scars still remained, however, and Severus inwardly winced when he realized they would never go away.

Severus turned his face away quickly as he was reminded for a single second of himself. He too had scars from his childhood that would never go away. He knew for a _fact_ that Harry had never suffered abuse like he had, but he supposed that Azkaban was just as good as, if not worse. Severus, at least, had gotten fed regularly as a child.

The older man quickly shook his head, as if to rid himself of such disturbing thoughts, in favor of doing something proactive. He found himself contemplating what to do next; the obvious thing that came to his mind was reporting back to the Dark Lord, as he knew was expected. However, something else seemed to be more important, and Severus couldn't believe he was even thinking it.

The boy had asked for Bella, when he woke up. Severus could only assume that the next time the child awoke, he would ask for her again. The obvious thing to do, then, was to get Bella and have her watch over the child while he reported back to the Dark Lord. Severus' mind told him that the plan would likely backfire, and the Voldemort would be furious that Severus had not personally brought the child to him to see; however, the logic of leaving the child behind overruled any other thought the Potions Master had. Taking Harry to see the Dark Lord would provide an unnecessary strain on both the child's emotions and his fragile body, and as a Healer, Severus was unwilling to risk that.

Placing a simple charm over the boy that would alert him if the child awoke again, Severus slipped out of the room and across the hall into a similar room. There, Bellatrix Lestrange was sleeping on the bed, looking more peaceful that Severus knew she had been in years.

The dark-haired man was almost unwilling to wake her; never having experienced Azkaban himself, he couldn't imagine how she felt; but if his instinct was right, she was dead tired, sore, and extremely drained- both mentally and physically. Bella had never been his favorite person, but no one deserved to live through what she had. Severus didn't want to wake her, as she looked so peaceful; however, the practicality of the situation overruled his wish for her to rest.

Severus walked as quietly as possible over to where she lay, and gently shook her shoulder. He quickly stepped back after he had done so; if he had learned anything in his many years of being a Death Eater, it was that everyone was always expecting an attack.

True to his prediction, within mere seconds of him tapping Bella's shoulder, she was up with her wand pointing directly at his heart. Severus stood perfectly still, waiting for her to register who he was. When she did, her wand lowered slightly and wavered before she completely fell back onto the bed. It appeared that, even though she had not had a wand in many, many years, Bellatrix had not lost the ability to use one. It was quite fortunanate for her, in fact, that the Dark Lord had had an extra and had been kind enough to give it to her.

"What is it, Severus?" She asked quietly, her wary voice betraying true exhaustion. Severus winced; he felt even worse, now.

Taking a deep breath, Severus went right for the punch. "Harry was asking for you."

The reaction was instantaneous. Bella was up in a flash, her eyes dancing around the room and her wand secured neatly in her pocket. "He asked for me? What did he say?"

"He asked if he was dead." Severus watched carefully for her reaction, and he was rewarded when her eyes softened in a way he hadn't known possible for her.

"Oh, poor child. It really wasn't fair- you have to know he didn't really do anything-" Her words were jumbled and soft, trying to convey emotions that Severus wasn't quite sure he caught. He nodded mutely, listening to her tirade with a heavy heart and a sympathetic face.

He, of course, knew that Harry really was innocent. Dumbledore had revealed to him when it had first happened that it was all a set-up; a clever but cruel one that was designed to make the perfect weapon. Putting Harry through a living hell, Dumbledore had decided, would mould him into a strong, hateful killing machine; having this type of monster on the Light's side would truly be beneficial.

According to Dumbledore, anyway. All for the _Greater Good_.

Severus had cried when Dumbledore had first told him about it- out of earshot, of course, but he had cried all the same. Lily had made him promise that he would always watch over her son, and he had planned to do that to the very best of his ability; however, having the child in Azkaban really did make fulfilling that promise rather difficult. Never before had Severus hated Albus Dumbledore as much as he had in that moment.

Telling the Dark Lord of Dumbledore's plan had also brought Severus great pain; listening to the snake-like man's statements of excitement and joy at the boy's expense hadn't been easy. He had been shocked, in fact, when Voldemort had brought the boy back to their headquarters. It was quite out of character, but then again- Severus figured he should know by now that the Dark Lord is never, ever predictable. He had made that mistake once, and would not make it again.

Bella had obviously been trying to get his attention for some time now, and Severus quickly shifted his attention once again to listen to her agitated rant. "Please take me to him- he must be so scared, he must- oh, please-"

Severus almost chuckled to himself. He would never have guessed, in a million years, that Bellatrix would experience any even slightly _maternal_ feelings towards _anyone_. It was quite odd- she was acting like a flustered mother hen, just waiting to get back to her young and ensure that they were, in fact, safe. It was almost reassuring to see her acting like a sane person- more often than not, her apparent insanity got in the way of all logic. It was then, however, that she was at her strongest; Severus, at those times, just made sure to _not get in her way_. He really wasn't a fan of having his head blown off simply for being in the wrong place at wrong time. She had already demonstrated many times that she had no apparent degree of control, and because Severus had a very high degree of self-preservation he was careful not to anger her.

Severus stopped her tirade abruptly, simply saying, "Follow me." The stunned woman nodded quickly and swallowed once, shoving back her massive hair behind her ears. The years in Azkaban hadn't been kind to her, Severus mused, as he led her slowly across the hall. Her once full figure had flattened out as she lost weight, and her face was only skin and bones. Her hair was a frizzy mess of dirt and scum, and even her eyes looked dead. It was quite sad to see what was once an extremely vibrant woman, full of life and spirit, so dead.

Harry was still sleeping when the two stepped into the room, and immediately Bella was next to him, running her pale hand down her cheek and smoothing his hair. She looked at Severus pleadingly, asking in a small voice, "Did you heal him?"

Severus nodded at the woman gently, his long hair concealing the fact that his eyes were shadowed with a thin veil of tears. He hadn't cried in a long time; but now, to see two people who he believed to be broken souls- it was heart wrenching. He had never thought Bella had a heart, but it appeared she did.

After informing Bella that she needed to watch over Harry while he reported to the Dark Lord, Severus slipped out and carefully locked the door, sealing it with his magic. He rarely did such things, especially in a place where privacy is not valued or respected; however, somewhere deep in his heart he wanted to protect Harry- and Bella, he realized. For now, they needed protection. Even though Bellatrix had her wand, Severus strongly doubted she would be strong enough to perform any big spells that would make a lasting impact on her enemy.

Taking a deep breath as he placed the white mask on his face, Severus mentally prepared himself and then entered the doorway that led to the Dark Lord's chamber.

"My Lord," he spoke softly, immediately kneeling down before the seated, pale figure. "I have news."

Chancing a glance up just in time to see Voldemort motion for him to continue, Severus took another deep breath before speaking again. "I have healed the majority of the boy's injuries. Although he is still weak, I have examined him and it appears he has not been broken as badly as I had originally thought."

The Dark Lord nodded slowly, and then asked, "And what of his mind?"

Severus' mind subconsciously thanked Merlin that the snake-like man had accepted his report, before continuing. "I have assessed that also, and have found that although he is obviously damaged, his grasp on words and language is quite astounding. He is still capable of making simple sentences and putting thoughts together. Although he is stunted for his age, I believe that with the right training he will be able to make a full recovery."

Voldemort's lack of response scared Severus, and he focused on the ground as he waited for the man's response. When the reply did come, Severus had to work hard to contain his shock.

"Astounding. Better, stronger men than this child have been broken from a year in Azkaban; yet he, the smallest of them all, survived with simply scars."

Voldemort waved Severus out, and after bowing Severus complied. He was left with his thoughts, all which seemed to point to one single question- _What is he planning for the boy?_

--

Bella hummed contentedly as she stroked Harry's hair softly, her hand following the rhythms of her song. The boy looked so peaceful, despite the ugly scars and scattered bruises that were left on his face and arms. It was rather sad, that someone so young and small had to suffer; but Bella was glad in her heart that he was out of Azkaban, as was she. It all seemed rather surreal.

Her thoughts continued in a sporadic pattern for quite a few minutes, before a tiny voice broke her concentration and her attention turned back to Harry just as quickly as it had turned away.

"Bella?"

Her hand moved more frantically across his hot forehead as she replied, "Yes, Harry, child. It's Bella." She couldn't help but feel hopeful- when she and Harry had been brought to headquarters, both of them, but Harry in particular, had looked close to death. Severus had done a spectacular job healing the boy.

Harry smiled gently, looking her softly in the eyes. "We got out of there, Bella," he said quietly, his eyes taking on a far-away look. "We won."

Bella smiled back at him, her words gentle, remembering what she had said to him while they were still in Azkaban. His simple words seemed almost hopeful, and they inspired her that just maybe, _maybe_, everything would be alright. "Yes, child. We won."

It wasn't until Harry fell back asleep that Bella realized his forehead was hot, _much_ too hot.

--

**A bit of a longer chapter, I think. Sorry for the long wait. It's finally summer- hopefully updates will be faster. Please review.**

**_Poll for this chapter:_**

**Should Harry have anything special about him? If so, what?**

**Thanks all!! :)**


	6. Protector

**Shattered Surrender  
**_by sick-atxxheart  
_Chapter Six

--

Voldemort had just begun to settle in for the night, when a hard, sharp rap on the door caught his attention. Muttering under his breath about bloody needy fools, namely his Death Eaters, the Dark Lord waved his wand once and his black robes were on his body again, rather than the thinner robes he wore to bed. Throwing open the door, Voldemort looked about, anticipating the need for a swift and ready punishment to be given. He always looked forward to _that_.

To his disappointment, it was only _Pettigrew_- the Dark Lord held him in great contempt, despite the loyalty the small, rat-like man had consistently shown. Despite the fact that he had betrayed all he held dear in order to save his life, Voldemort still felt that loyalty was something that should be held in the greatest respect. Even if it was because of him, Pettigrew had killed that loyalty to his friends, and for that reason the Dark Lord still did not trust him. The man was far too weak of mind to really think on his own- he went through life listening to others, and doing simply what kept him alive.

Voldemort actually _didn't_ know why he kept him alive, when he thought about it.

But all thoughts aside, the man in front of him was trembling, as was his normal behavior. He obviously had extremely important news to relay to the Dark Lord, if he was disturbing him in his personal quarters at night; that, beyond all things, was prohibited. Everyone knew that.

"You must have an _excruciatingly_ convincing reason for disturbing me," Voldemort hissed, his wand stretching out to nudge the small man's head up. Pettigrew whimpered, nodding frantically. He took a step backwards in his haste, as if that would protect him.

A moment's silence passed as Voldemort waited in not-so-patient silence before finally dangerously roaring, "_What?!"_

Pettigrew whimpered again, this time even more frightened; it took him a good thirty seconds to get his emotions and flailing limbs controlled enough to speak. When he did, Voldemort had every inclination to curse him into oblivion; but when the man's words actually registered, every thought of such an action was forgotten.

"_Severus would like me to tell you that the child is deadly ill with fever- a heat beyond what is possible for a human body to create."_

Warning bells were already going off in Voldemort's mind as he strode purposefully down the corridor, leaving a still-trembling Wormtail in his wake. As an afterthought, he waved his wand over his shoulder to lock his quarters. He couldn't have the bloody rat going through his things, after all- but then… then he would have a reason to kill the fool.

The Dark Lord ignored his thoughts on Pettigrew stoically, his mind racing. _A deadly fever_. Even though he was not a healer, Voldemort knew many things about the effects of magic on a body; he had used those laws to his advantage many times. But as far as he knew, there was only one reported case of a fever as strong as Severus' cryptic message had made it seem; and that young man had died rather spectacularly, many years ago.

Despite the fact that Harry Potter was his nemesis and his worst enemy, Voldemort had a feeling that keeping the boy alive would be more beneficial than if he were dead.

It seemed to take forever for him to get there, and when he did Voldemort realized with a start that he could have just Apparated; he was the only one with his magic keyed directly into the wards. The Death Eaters could Apparate outside the building, but not inside. Really, it did seem like a stupid move; Voldemort wondered for just a few blinding seconds why he was focusing so much on little things, but then passed over that thought too. Normally, he was much more focused.

Shaking his head as if to clear it, he banged the door to Severus' personal healing room open with a start. He had given the Potions Master the room when it became clear that he was completely loyal to the Dark; it was then that the room became almost a reward. Voldemort was grateful now that he, in fact, had given the room to Severus; it was now being used well.

Severus and Bella were both bending over the small body, alternately drenching the child with cool water from their wands and rubbing the boy's skin to keep the blood circulating despite the cold water. Voldemort would have been amused, as Severus and Bella working together was not a common sight; however, he understood the seriousness of the situation and deemed that laughing would be quite inappropriate.

Voldemort moved forward slowly, reasoning out the best way to interrupt the two's careful process; they had quite the system going, and Voldemort knew from experience that breaking that concentration wouldn't be good. Finally, after a moment's hesitation, the Dark Lord finally decided that their concentration would be broken no matter what, and hearing the entire story was more important at the current time.

"What is it?" His voice was cold and calculating as always, but Voldemort couldn't help the fact that Harry really didn't look well. His face was flushed and his hands were swollen; his whole body seemed to be sweating buckets, and his skin looked scaly and rough from the redness. The child was almost convulsing, and it pained Voldemort to watch. As much pain and suffering as he had experienced and inflicted in his lifetime, he had never been one for injuring children.

Severus jumped, and Voldemort inwardly commended his reaction time as he immediately went back to working on the child. "I can't tell, my Lord- I healed him with all the normal procedures, and he was sleeping fine. All of the sudden, Bella just noticed his forehead was hot- much to hot- and called me here. It's just gotten consistently worse."

Severus' worry and trepidation were present, and Voldemort couldn't help but smirking. He, of course, knew of Severus' love for the child's mother; Severus had begged him long ago to spare her, but due to her power he had refused. The man's eyes had changed ever since then, and even though Voldemort rarely felt regret, every so often a pain of sympathy and remorse for Severus' loss hit him. Even if he did not yet care for the boy, Voldemort was surprised to discover that he would save the child just for Severus' sake.

He was being rather kind today, it seemed. Damn whiskey.

Both Severus and Bella seemed to be waiting for his reply, so on the spot the Dark Lord asked about the previous case of a deadly fever.

"You have read your histories, have you not, Severus?" his voice was low and cool, but the inclination was obvious and taken well as Severus' eyes widened. His nod was edging on frantic as he realized exactly what the Dark Lord meant, and when he did the look in his eyes became even harder.

"That was years ago," Severus said quietly, rubbing Harry's skin even harder. "Medicine is more advanced now. It will not happen again."

Bella looked confused as she stared between the two men; however, no one moved to explain the story to her. Voldemort's eyes seemed to almost be posing a challenge to Severus; this was the man's intention, and the Dark Lord knew Severus would take it. He always was one for a challenge- and this one, this challenge, raised the stakes just a bit higher.

"Did they ever find the cause of the fever, back then?" Bella ventured to ask, figuring out a bit of what the conversation was about and inserting herself into it.

Severus' face jerked toward her, looking at her as if she was a lifeline- as if he was drowning. "Yes," he whispered, and Voldemort couldn't help but wonder if he was falling apart. "Prolonged exposure to pain and magic."

Bella frowned once, and Voldemort followed in suit. He hadn't heard that about that case- he knew about the prolonged pain, but prolonged exposure to _magic? _Where had that come from? He knew for a fact that magical torture was not used in Azkaban prison- and if it was, he would know about it.

Severus' face grew paler and paler, and Voldemort just watched him in anticipation. It was quite obvious the man had discovered something that he himself was missing- something important and catastrophic, no doubt. Things like that certainly did have a way of involving Harry Potter.

Voldemort sighed, and just mere seconds after that Severus broke the silence. "It appears that Harry Potter is stronger than we thought." His voice was quiet, his hands still working; his face showed a strange combination of wonder, awe, fear, and amazement that Voldemort wasn't quite sure was possible. However, the implication of his words were stronger than anything else, and Voldemort couldn't help but ask,

"What do you mean?"

Bella seemed to have caught on slightly, when she whispered, "Well, how else could he survive Azkaban? No child should be able to."

Voldemort's head snapped up, and in a brisk voice he said, "A self-imposed shield." Severus nodded briskly, affirming his suspicions. The Dark Lord continued. "But- that means he is a-"

"A Protector," Severus said calmly, a long deep breath shuddering through his body. "He's a Protector."

At Severus' words, Voldemort's mind began to race even faster. _A Protector_. Godric Gryffindor and Salazar Slytherin had been the last Protectors the world had seen, that had come into their full inheritance at least; being born with such powers was a rare honor that maybe one child every thousand years was bestowed with. Godric and Salazar had been twin protectors, destined to work together to achieve their ultimate goal; when they had failed, however, the world had fallen to corruption.

Bella was crying now, her face a mess of muddy tears. Despite everything that was happening, Voldemort rolled his eyes. Her voice was nearly a whisper when she said quietly, "W-what does that m-mean?"

"It means," Severus said calmly, his voice now stony, "that this child is meant to save the world."

--

The library was quiet and still as Voldemort raced through the tall, dark shelves of books. His own personal collection had grown quite large over the years, he had to admit, and he had many times considered getting rid of some of the less important books. However, above all Voldemort was a scholar, and he had never been able to bring himself to actually get rid of any. Now, he was glad he hadn't.

_Protectors, Protectors, Protectors,_ Voldemort thought to himself, his thoughts jumping to which books would have any mention of such phenomena in their pages. There weren't many, that much was for certain- however, the Dark Lord knew that his extensive collection of all things Dark would surely be able to provide an explanation.

At least he hoped, because if he was in fact wrong, Harry would die.

It was their guess that there was some type of ritual that had to be performed. Based on common logic, he and Severus had determined that Protectors in general experienced prolonged exposure to both pain and magic; when they reached their brink, the body threatened to collapse. This exact moment was when the ritual must be performed, otherwise the person would die.

Despite the great sadist that Voldemort forever was, he couldn't help but shudder at the methods people must have used to get their child to the _perfect_ level of pain and magic exposure in order to perform the ritual. It was quite inhumane, really.

It only took a few minutes of searching for Voldemort to identify and locate the book he wanted. When he did, a simple _Accio_ flew it from the top shelf into his waiting arms; the book looked ready scream at him. With a sigh, Voldemort opened the book, and scream it did; it took him only seconds for him to make it be quiet, with a simple spell he had designed exactly for the purpose of bloody screaming books. Long ago, he had hunted down the originator of such an idea and killed him- the man had lived a long, strange life and had eventually ended up deaf from all his screaming books. Voldemort personally thought he was a fool, but that's beside the point.

Scanning the table of content with calculating eyes, the Dark Lord quickly identified where the information he wanted was and flipped to that page. The picture adorning the top of the chapter was an ugly representation of a child with a fever much like Harry's; the small body was portrayed as having small welts of skin and heat all over his body, and poorly drawn lines around the figure showed the convulsions that accompanied such a fever.

Choosing to ignore the picture, Voldemort ran a single long finger down the page, reading as he went.

_A Protector is a rare form of magic that is only inhibited in those children born with the exact proportions of magical ability and strength within their body at birth. Such inhibitions are rare and quite an honor on a child, however the burden that comes with being such a breed is large and not easy to bear. _

_Children born with such a gift are usually stronger in their youth, and accidental magic is a more often occurrence than it would normally be. One of the main powers of a Protector is the ability to "shield" not only their own body but the area and people around them from harm, often but not always for an extended period of time. Protectors have extremely long life expectancies under normal circumstances; however they can still be killed like normal men, albeit it is harder. _

_Beyond the advantage of a shield, Protectors are also beneficial to the world in different ways. Their Animagus form is often discovered at a young age, and is normally a very powerful creature; controlling their form comes easy to a Protector. Aside from this, the abnormal strength also leads to the person being extremely skilled in all forms of magic, including defensive and offensive spells, transfiguration, Potions, wandless and wordless magic, and even Llegimency and Occlumency. Protectors are also born with intense loyalty, determination, and leadership qualities that will always be present in the person's character._

_Cultivating a Protector's knowledge of magic is necessary, as the appropriate outlets for the person's extreme magical ability are necessary; if such outlets are not achieved, the person can experience a magical overload and will no longer be able to control themselves, no matter how strong they are. _

_Protectors reach a certain amount of pain and magical tolerance at some point in their life, and it is at this point that the ritual for them to receive their full inheritance comes into play. Performing this ritual is necessary and important for the Protector to fully understand the weight of their duty, and it cannot be fully explained other than by Protectors themselves. Once this ritual is performed, the chosen person will know what their calling is, and their drive and determination to fulfill that duty will commence. If this ritual is not completed when the person reaches their limit of magic and pain, the person will die within a day._

The book went on to explain the details of the ritual, and if Voldemort hadn't been shocked enough by the book's explanation of a Protector, the facts about the ritual itself would have done it. The ritual seemed to almost be creating a type of slavery bond between the Protector themselves and another person; however, it was not the type of bond in which the other person could control the Protector. Instead, it was more like once the ritual was performed an extreme mentorship relationship was established between the two. Voldemort couldn't help but wonder to himself exactly why this part of the ritual was necessary; however, he did not have time to question it. The ritual was not hard to perform, but the more time they had, the better.

--

New chapter! And it's long! Over 3,000 words, I think! Or around ;] Took a long time, but I'm proud of it. I actually like where I took this. I tried to incorporate some of your ideas, and I hope it turned out alright. Let me know.

Thank you for all your reviews to:

**charmedfanforeva**, **Slytherin66**, **Chi Vayne**,** henriette**, **Brookslocklear**, **kurama's bitches**, **ams71080**, **Tom Kristal**, **AngelofDarkness1605**, **BioHazard82**, **nim istar**, **datenchi**, **Sakura Maxwell-Minamino**, **Silo666**, **darkwish3**, **Ghost 88**, **Lord Ezra'eil**, **thyrokio**, **stracy11**, **Jen94**, **Dark Goddess of Chaos**, **Nikita Domolov**, **lordofthemostancientsoohooclan**, **graynavarre**, **Dragonanzar**, **Musik Drache**, **HNZ**, **BlazinHotHead**, **DebsTheSlytherinSnapeFan**, **JoSchmo666**, **blackcatv24**, **fifespice**, **mosherguy18**, **Erynia**, **Destenys Angel Pyra**, **Mema4**, **dragonsconsort**, **JWOHPfan**, **Darkveelia88**, **abibliophobia**, **Jits**, **Klarika**, **WayDrifter**, **Slave2Writing**, **Miireya Humbolt**, **The Blackest Night**, **Draco Malfoy is Blond**, **Astromutt**, **Vegitunks1**, **bmatsea**, **Dany-DeathNote**, **Robert1000**, **Bellalover**, **Irishfighter**, **search in all the wrong places**, **HikaruOfArrow**, and **javacap**! I really, really appreciate it!

Poll: Who should be the "mentor" figure for Harry? Keep in mind- it involves more than you were told in this chapter! Also, please tell me what you thought!


	7. Choice

**Shattered Surrender  
**_by sick-atxxheart  
_Chapter Seven

**A/N: Okay, so this is important. This is a major piece of AU here- there is a later character that is not normally a Death Eater in canon, but he is in here. The timing is also slightly messed up, but just go along with it. Thanks for all your suggestions in the poll! Enjoy!**

**--**

The headline of _The Daily Prophet_ was glaring that day, with the huge news that both frightened and excited the world. Albus Dumbledore, sitting in his office, read the article with a calculating eye.

**HE-WHO-MUST-NOT-BE-NAMED INVADES AZKABAN PRISON – CRIMINALS TAKEN**

_He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named invaded Azkaban Prison late last night under the cover the darkness. Azkaban, believed to be the safest holding place in the world, has been considered inpenetratable for decades by all who hold safety and morale in high regard; however, once again we have been proven wrong._

_The attack came at about 11:30 p.m., according to a stunned guard, one of the sole staff survivors of the rampage. It seems that suddenly, one of the walls of the prison was simply blown open; the attack seemed carefully coordinated, as the wall blown open was one located on the opposite side of the prisoners. Two hooded figures entered the prison and began killing guards immediately with rapid Killing Curses (which, the public is of course warned, are Unforgivables). _

_Once much of the personnel was taken care of, our frightened guard hid silently under a desk. The Dementors at this time were not in the prison itself, but held in the outdoor chambers; there was no time to call them in order to help scare away the invaders._

_Immediately, the two hooded figures descended into the lower levels of the prison. There were a few more explosions heard from below, and a few minutes later they reappeared. This time, the figures were accompanied by roughly ten others, many of which our guard recognized as extremely dangerous Death Eaters. It was obvious to him that the Dark Lord had come to re-claim his followers._

_The most interesting fact, however, is that a young child was carried in the tallest figure's arms. There is only one child in Azkaban prison, and that child is Harry Potter._

_As of now, there are no more breaking alerts on whether or not the prisoners have been recovered. The Daily Prophet warns you to constantly be on your guard, never go anywhere alone, and take the necessary precautions to ensure safety and happiness for both you and your family. All of the escaped criminals are dangerous and most likely mentally unstable, and any encounters with them will surely end in either harm or fatality. _

_Keep reading for more news._

Dumbledore took a long sip of his brandy as he read through the article again, his half-moon spectacles perched on his nose. These news were most certainly not good- the world had known that Voldemort was back for what seemed to be ages, however the fact that his most loyal followers had been in prison had been a comfort. But now- with exactly eleven of the prisoners in the lower level of Azkaban taken- the world seemingly had fallen to shambles. It was a mess.

Even more pressing was the fact that both Harry Potter and Sirius Black had been taken by Voldemort himself. As much as Dumbledore didn't believe that Harry had even a touch of Dark Magic in him, he had still chosen to send the boy to Azkaban; and he had fully intended for the child to never know he had a godfather. It seemed, now, that his plan wouldn't work out the way he hoped.

Silently, Dumbledore cursed the day that Harry Potter had been born. He had changed the world, but the boy's magic was far too strong for his own good.

Dumbledore began making plans, not even knowing that it was worse than even he could imagine.

--

As soon as his Lord told him the news of what Harry was, and what had to be done in order to bring the boy to his full inheritance, Severus Snape was astounded. From what it sounded like, the boy was meant to have an even bigger role in the development of the Wizarding world than he already had- something the Potions Master secretly hadn't thought was possible. Nevertheless, the gleam in Voldemort's eye told him that the Dark Lord was going to use this new development to his complete advantage

He shouldn't have expected anything else, really.

In the back of his mind, behind his heavy Occlumency shields, Severus' mind was reeling. There was no doubt by now that the news of the break-in was all over the world; and Severus also had no doubt that Dumbledore would be anxiously waiting his report. He would want news on the child, news on the prisoners, and information on how to get that back.

As much as he hated to admit it to himself, Severus wasn't really interested in giving the man that coveted information. For once in his life, he felt compassion- and for Harry Potter, no less. Severus couldn't believe he was even _thinking_ this, but he almost believed that Harry would get better care with the Dark Lord than with Dumbledore.

_I haven't seen the child. I haven't seen the prisoners. The Dark Lord tells me nothing_.

The mantra had already begun in his mind, and Severus smiled a bit to himself as he realized the double deception that he was beginning now. Not only was he only pretending to be loyal to Dumbledore, the old meddling fool, but now he was lying to him directly.

It was a good thing Severus was such an accomplished actor.

However, the dark-haired man was pulled out of his thoughts when he realized the Dark Lord was speaking.

"I'm not the greatest wizard in the world for nothing, Severus," he was saying, a manic gleam in his eye as his long hand quickly scratched out words on a piece of paper. "This ritual- it's much, much too old for my tastes. I figure it could use a little… editing."

Severus couldn't help but shiver.

--

The thin, exhausted man had just begun what was to be his first real sleep in years when he was dragged out of bed yet again, this time by Severus Snape himself. He had just barely begun to work up enough energy to throw out a half-hearted insult, when the taller man stooped down to the bed's level to speak to him.

"Allright, Black," the Potions Master whispered. "I know we've never been on what would be considered… companionable terms, but it seems that now we have no choice."

It took Sirius Black a minute to register what he was saying- it had been a long time, after all- but when he did he nodded slowly, waiting for the man to continue.

"Did you know your godson, Harry Potter, was also in Azkaban- for something he didn't do?" Severus' words were surprisingly soft, and Sirius answered immediately in a cracked, throaty voice.

"I did, those damn-"

"That's all I need to know," Severus cut him off quickly, but not cruelly. "He's here, now. He came with us when we rescued you. And it seems that he is a Protector-"

Sirius' face was incredulous. "A Protector?" he said slowly. "No way, but there h-hasn't been one of t-those since-"

"Salazar Slytherin, yes," Severus said, nodding; he was rather surprised that Black knew his history so well. He was, of course, from a Pureblood family, but you couldn't always be sure.

Severus continued. "He's at the ritual point, where he will die if the magic is not placed correctly on him. In essence, you are supposed to choose one mentor for the child; however, the Dark Lord himself has taken the liberty of editing the spell."

"And?" Sirius whispered, not quite sure why the man was telling him all of this.

"He has changed the spell so there are two mentors, rather than one. Despite it all, Black, he has chosen you for the second, next to himself."

--

The healing room was very cold on purpose, in order to keep Harry's underfed and shuddering body warm. The cold was, however, almost unbearable to Sirius as Severus led him in. His wrists were still covered in heavy sores from his shackles, but thankfully he had been given new clothing. For the first time in years, he felt _some_ essence of cleanliness.

Sirius almost broke down when he saw his godson convulsing on the bed. He _had_ been an active Death Eater at the time of Lily and James' death, but it hadn't been him who gave them up. He hadn't even known about it.

That was why, when he saw the desperation in front of him, his mind turned against Dumbledore even more.

Sirius Black was a spirited but broken man, his heart and soul crushed and his dreams and memories taken away from him. But despite everything, he remembered Harry, and he would do anything to make that little boy whole again.

_Anything._

--

**Please review! I had 29/30 ish reviews for the last chapter, and I'd love to get even more for this one! What did you think of the Sirius twist?**


	8. Anticipation

**Shattered Surrender  
**_by sick-atxxheart  
_Chapter Eight

--

_Floating. The word came to mind to Harry, and he wasn't quite sure what to make of it. Was he floating? Was he dying? He didn't remember much except pain- but when was that not the story of his life, when was that not something he expected? It always had been._

_But now- now, this was… different. Really different. The pain seemed to almost be going away- and that was something Harry was definitely not used to. Instead of just being plunged into the dark, he could see light; and instead of being cold, he was almost getting warmer. It was the strangest feeling, and Harry wasn't quite sure what to make of it. So instead, he chose to just float…_

_Floating…_

_What seemed like years later, but what really could have been only minutes, or hours, or days, or seconds- he had no idea- but later, the light became almost blinding. Harry wanted to scream, he wanted to cry out, he wanted to make it stop- _

_He had always thought of light as comforting, as something that could make you feel better when you were down or hurting. That's how it had always been for him, before; when he was hurting, just a little glimpse of light seemed to make things better. But not now. Now, the light was blinding him, and it hurt more than anything- his whole body seemed to be ripped apart- it was a huge difference from the nice floating feeling he had felt before…_

_Confusion filled Harry. He was still floating, that much was obvious- but it felt like his entire body was writhing in pain, shaking along at an alarming speed he found he couldn't control. He was blind, he was deaf, he was dumb, he was motionless, he was helpless- what could he do? What was left for him? What was coming for him?_

_There was another flash of light, and then all went still._

--

It was quite obvious to all that were in the room that something was happening to Harry. As soon as the complex ritual had been started, the boy's body had gone very still for what seemed to be almost a complete five minutes; but after that, it began to convulse even more than before. However, all the soothing words and binding charms and any other kind of medical help couldn't hold him; the magic that was flowing through Harry's body seemed to be too strong. Nothing Bella or Severus did could break it.

Similarly, Voldemort and Sirius themselves seemed to be practically frozen in stone. Their faces were both immensely concentrated, their eyes closed; Sirius had collapsed into a chair before the ritual even started, but Severus guessed that was from exhaustion. Despite his deep hatred for the man, the Potions Master almost felt sympathy for him.

Sirius' story was a strange one, as he had been the person in Hogwarts that everyone knew would be a great advantage to the Dark; however, he had also been the one that everyone expected to never abandon the Light. Sirius, in his infinite wisdom (at least according to him) had chosen the best of both worlds. He had made a contract with the Dark Lord himself, and Severus had been privately amazed at the man's ability to be both nonchalant and respectful at the same time. Sirius, of course, brought his own personality to his loyalty; and that was what was interesting.

Despite Severus' own role as a double agent, he couldn't help but deny that Sirius' had been difficult also. He had lied to his friends all those years; but despite that, part of Sirius' contract with the Dark Lord had been that Lily, James, Remus, and Peter would not be killed. The Dark Lord had agreed, but Severus at the time had doubted the Dark Lord's integrity on keeping _that_ part of the deal.

As it turns out, he had been right.

Sirius had been careful to only kill those members of the Light that he had no association or contact with. In other words, if Sirius knew the person, then he wouldn't kill them or even watch them be killed. It was rather strange, Severus thought, that the Dark Lord was so lenient with the man- so lenient, in fact, that he would allow him to choose who he killed. None of the other Death Eaters were given that immense privilege. Sirius had been, in fact, an "on-again, off-again" Death Eater.

However, Sirius had indeed been punished for this so-called "privilege" when Lily and James had been killed. Severus hadn't been in the vicinity when the man found out about it- but word said that he had stood there and laughed, a cruel laugh that supposedly had echoed for blocks and blocks. The Ministry had caught him, and he had been carted off to Azkaban.

Despite the fact that the Dark Lord felt no remorse for killing Sirius' best friends, no words could describe how infuriated and angry Voldemort had been when he found out that one of his prized, loyal henchmen had been captured. Secretly, Severus had wondered whether or not the Dark Lord would have had the same reaction if it were any other man, and he guessed not; all the same, elaborate plans were made to break him out of the heavily-guarded prison.

It had taken nearly fourteen years, but they had finally gotten it right; and now, there they stood. An odd group, undoubtedly, but one all the same.

Severus shook his head briefly as if to clear it. He hadn't meant to let his mind stray, and even as it had his opinion of Sirius Black hadn't changed one bit; however, the human heart he still in fact did possess always jumped unpleasantly whenever the details of the man's ordeal came up. He had been shipped off to Azkaban, and suffered there for many years. Severus was immensely surprised that the man could stand straight and remember his name, let alone remember who his godson was; it was, in fact, quite amazing.

Severus had no doubts that Sirius would have a million questions and accusations for the Dark Lord as soon as the ritual was over. Of course Voldemort would be expecting it; he even perhaps deserved it, Severus thought, for subjecting Sirius to that hell for all those years. Severus himself had been quite angry at the man when he found out that Lily Evans-Potter was dead, but he had not had the right to confront his Master like he knew Sirius would.

Shaking his head once again, Severus gave greater concentration to what was happening in front of him. Harry had finally stopped moving; in fact, it seemed like he had stopped in one great motion, like all of the sudden the magic had suddenly subsided. Both Sirius' and Voldemort's eyes had flown wide open to meet one another's, red meeting piercing black; it was almost as if a connection was being made, one Severus didn't quite understand. Chancing a quick glance at Bella, Severus noticed that she too looked frozen, but in her case from fear and wonder. She was no doubt worried about Harry.

The ritual had consisted of a series of spells said in quick coordination with one another. Severus had been worried about the accuracy and even the safety of the spell, considering it was first of all medieval, and second of all it had been tampered with; but the Potions Master new better than to ask questions, so he didn't. Instead, he chose to just sit and watch, waiting.

Who knew what the outcome would be.

--

_The world seemed to be hazy. Harry wondered briefly what was going on- was he still blind? Was he still deaf? He didn't appear to be blind, as everything seemed to be _there_; but he was still so dizzy it was hard to tell. Harry was grateful that he was no longer in pain, but confused all the same. Where was he? What had happened? _

_Harry briefly remembered being rescued from Azkaban, by a strange man he hadn't recognized. He remembered being healed, and being extremely grateful for the rest and the freedom from pain he had been granted; but then he remembered more pain. What had happened? Had he been taken back?_

_Unknowingly, but without caring, Harry began to cry. The sensation of the hot tears rolling down what he knew to be his face was almost relaxing; it told him he was real, that he wasn't dead. He could still feel something._

_The light wasn't blinding anymore, but Harry almost wished he was back in the pleasant sensation of floating. That was easy. Relaxed. There wasn't any of the pain of living in torture; there was only floating... floating..._

_There was almost a huge weight on his body, and it hurt. Harry wanted it to go away... he wanted it all to go away..._

_Harry continued to cry softly, but he hadn't the slightest idea why._

--

The sound of crying jerked Voldemort out of his magic-induced stupor, and he looked up to see that Harry was crying softly, his eyes shut tightly closed and his hands bunched up into fists. Across the room, Sirius Black was also watching Harry, his black eyes soft and pained. Severus and Bella were also there, but they seemed to be watching him instead, waiting for instructions.

Voldemort shook his head slowly. Had the ritual worked? Harry seemed to no longer be in great pain, and his face and body was no longer bright red from fever; but had they merely saved his life, or had the Protector in Harry been unleashed?

Shaking his head to Bellatrix and Severus, who both immediately turned back to watch Harry, Voldemort opened up the book he had left under his chair. Flipping once again to the chapter on Protectors, he read once again the missing paragraphs he had neglected to read beforehand.

_If a child is forced to take part in the ritual of the Protector at a young age, the result will often cause the child much pain in its early stages. The best remedy for this is _not_ rest and relaxation, but quite the opposite; training and excersize will often help diminish the left-over magic in the child's body. Although moving around is often painful, the more action the child partakes in, the better. _

_In extreme cases, explaining to the person exactly what is happening is a plus. Protectors, after the ritual has been performed, have immense stores of magical energy within their body; it is wise not to give cause for that magic to be released in anger. Not only is their magic increased tenfold, but the physical strength of the person, regardless of their age, is also enhanced. Training is necessary for the person to not only be able to control their strength, but also use it in the correct ways._

_The mentor's role in the Protector's life is a crucial one. Should the mentor perish, the Protector will be weakened immensely. Thus, it is the mentor's duty to ensure that not only is the Protector kept safe during their training, but also the protection of one's own life is necessary. In addition, the mentor provides schooling, support, and advice to the Protector throughout all the stages of his life. The Protector often becomes immensely dependent on the mentor, and for this reason it is prudent that the two not be separated for any length of time. If this happens, the Protector will most likely lose their control on their magic due to their emotions._

_Protectors have a duty in the world around them, and in order to fulfill that the correct opportunites must be placed in front of them. This also falls to the mentor, who through contacts and other influences must give the Protector the chances to make a difference. Sheer force and wit alone cannot win a war, undoubtedly._

_Protectors can only be killed in two ways; with a direct hit from the Killing Curse, or with a sword through the heart._

Voldemort sighed and looked up. It appeared they had a bigger task in front of him than he had originally anticipated.

--

**Please review! What did you think of this chapter? Was the explanation of Sirius being a Death Eater good enough?**

**Poll: **

**1) Should Dumbledore be informed of this new development right away, or later when Harry is undoubtedly super-strong and angry?**

**2) Should Ron, Hermione, or Draco be Harry's friends? (Have I already asked that?)**

**Please review! Thanks all! **


	9. Inquiry

**Shattered Surrender  
**_by sick-atxxheart  
_Chapter Nine

**A/N**: I have decided to answer a few important reviewer questions here, before we continue on with the next chapter. Thank you for all your reviews!

**Is this slash? **No, this will _not_ be slash. I am actually unsure about what pairings, if any, will be present in this story. This also will _not_ be a Harry/Bella story.

**Did Sirius just decide one day to become a Death Eater? I still don't see the motive, did he believe in their cause? **Sirius did in fact believe in the cause of the Death Eaters, due predominately to his upbringing in the House of Black. Although he is not prejudiced against people such as Muggleborns or Half-Bloods, he does believe in the desire for power. He is, of course, OOC.

**No crazy Deatheaters running everywhere? **Great question! For now, the Death Eaters are not staying in Headquarters, except for Snape and Bella currently of course. They will come in later, though, and I plan to make them serve their purposes, but in a perhaps... stupid... way. Gotta love crazy Death Eaters :)

**I had believed that you would develop Harry past an angered personality. While a want for revenge is completely justified, I do not believe it would make sense. **It was just an option- and your opinion makes sense. Harry will undoubtedly be angry, but it will of course depend on how he reacts to his mentors and everything else that determines it.

Thank you all for your reviews.

--

Sirius hadn't wanted to leave the room Harry was in, at first. He had been determined, in fact, to stay with the godchild he had missed over so many years; however, a threatening look from the Dark Lord had changed his mind. Sighing, Sirius shuffled out of the room, slightly angry; years and years in Azkaban had made him forget how demanding evil overlords really could be.

Severus had left also, much to the Potion Master's disappointment. He had secretly hoped that the Dark Lord would trust him enough to allow him to stay; but deep in his heart, he had known that hope was futile. The Dark Lord was not a trusting man, despite what anyone might foolishly say.

Instead, Severus followed the familiar path down to the dungeons of the headquarters. He had never quite understood it, but dungeons had a surprisingly comforting feel for him; they made him feel almost safe. As strange as that sounded, the bitterly cold air and the stoic stone walls seemed to offer a sense of normality that Severus liked to strive for. During times like these, having something simple, something easy, really did matter to him.

Taking a deep breath, Severus began getting out the ingredients to make a potion that always calmed him. The Draught of the Living Death was no easy potion to brew, that much was for certain; however, the Dark Lord never had any shortage of desire for it, and thus Severus found it to be a calming, if not mildly ridiculous, task.

Setting up his cauldron and brewing tools exactly the way he liked them, Severus began to slowly add ingredients, one by one, directly from the recipe that was in his memory. Severus had many times thanked Merlin that he had such a fantastic memory; it was an extremely helpful tool, and had gotten him out of difficult situations many times. Knowing exactly how to make a Potion that could be life-changing or even life-saving was certainly a plus, when it came to battle and death and torture.

Oh, what a life I lead, Severus thought briefly to himself as he continued brewing, almost mindlessly by this point. Making potions had never been a problem for him; in fact, it was what he did in his spare time. He found himself lucky to have a job for the Dark Lord that mainly excluded torture and killing.

Of course, he still did experience his fair share of things like that. Severus vividly remembered the day of his initiation, no matter how many times he had tried to forget; the memory never really went away.

The night had been cold and black, and sixteen-year-old Severus had been sure of his decision but scared out of his mind. He was finally, finally going to make something of his life- and that fact excited Severus, but still scared him. He was leaving behind everything he knew. Everything.

He had already betrayed Lily- so after all, what was left to lose?

That simple fact had been what made Severus' decision. He had lost Lily, and she wouldn't be waiting for him should he ever return. So, as a result, the only option that seemed to make sense was to go away, and not return. Severus did just that, and regretted it ever since.

That was why Severus couldn't quite believe that here, now, today, he was so amicably helping save the life of Lily's son. He had trained himself to hate her; he had told himself over and over again that she wasn't worth it, that nothing she had done or said should matter to him. For the longest time, he had been completely convinced of that- and life had been so easy… so easy.

But nothing ever really went way, did it? And that was why Severus found himself sitting over a cauldron of the Draught of Living Death, crying silent tears. For himself. For Lily. For Harry.

--

Voldemort had barely moved a muscle since he had opened his eyes to find Harry crying. Harry, on the other hand, had shifted in his bed countless times; it really was quite annoying to listen to, Voldemort  
mused. He wished the boy would just wake up already; he had always resented waiting.

He hadn't had much time before now to contemplate how exactly he was going to react to the child when he woke up. Being kind was a must, obviously; Voldemort had no doubt that young Harry had been taught about the 'evil wizard' even as a child. How could he not have? He was famous in the Wizarding World, for defeating the great You-Know-Who.

He had laughed when he had first heard that. The pain he had experienced at the hands of Harry Potter surely wasn't anything to laugh at; however, Voldemort had _definitely_ recovered from it more quickly than anyone had expected. He was now even _stronger_than he was before, but regardless Voldemort couldn't bring himself to hate the child. Even though Harry was the cause of Voldemort's first downfall, the Dark Lord surprisingly still had some amount of sympathy in his heart. He had tried to kill the boy, and had succeeded in killing his parents; that fact in itself had finally inspired some remorse.

Voldemort sighed, and ran his hand over his now-bald head. Harry Potter's eyes were startlingly green, and they were slightly disconcerting if you looked at them long enough. It didn't help that the boy was staring at him, now; he was obviously awake, and wondering what had happened.

Voldemort couldn't help but wonder if the child felt an immediate connection to him. He had never liked children, _ever_; hell, he hadn't even liked _himself_when he was a child. But he did in fact feel different about the child now that the ritual had been properly performed; Voldemort finally realized that the accurate word for this situation would be _protective_. He felt protective of Harry Potter, and it was extremely strange. Would Harry feel a similar connection?

Voldemort stared at the child for a long minute, seeing if the boy would speak first. When his hopes were not fulfilled, he sighed once again and resigned himself to saying something.

"Hello, child," the Dark Lord said, feeling extremely awkward and silly. He had no idea how to act around children! He had already many times doubted the wisdom of being one of the boy's mentors- after all, he really wasn't the best "father figure" someone could wish for; but Voldemort knew there would be bigger rewards in the end if he suffered through a few awkward moments.

Harry didn't respond for what seemed to be ages. Voldemort continued staring, trying to keep his face relaxed in what he hoped was a kind expression; he had _never_ been good at this type of thing.

When Harry finally did speak, it wasn't exactly what Voldemort had hoped for. It was, apparently, the exact same reaction Severus had gotten when he woke up the boy previously.

The green eyes turned to look at him questioningly, but almost trustingly; the little hands curled up into fists. The fear radiating off Harry was quite obvious, and the older man tried very hard to stay calm.

"Bella?"

--

Severus sighed yet again. He _hated_ waking people up from their sleep; and it seemed that lately, he was getting more and more experience with it. However, the Dark Lord had requested it, and Severus didn't particularly have a death wish. He did, however, feel sorry for Bella; the woman had been through enough hell in the past few years to merit deserving a few hours of sleep.

He followed a similar routine when waking the woman up; he tapped her firmly on the shoulder and then sprang back, putting up a small shield in case she should immediately strike out. This time, however, she was more subtle; instead, she just opened her eyes, reaching for her wand, before recognizing him and relaxing.

"What is it this time, Severus?" Her voice was exhausted, and Severus winced. He didn't particularly like Bella, but then again, Azkaban was quite a cruel place; one he personally thought no one deserved.

"Harry asked for you again."

The words were enough to strike an immediate reaction from Bella, who jumped out of bed with surprising strength and speed. Bellatrix's wand was quickly stored in her robe, and she nodded swiftly to Severus, who took that as his cue to lead her to the child.

He did so, every so often glancing back to witness the look of both pure elation and worry on Bellatrix's face. It never ceased to surprise him that she could even _feel_ maternal; but he was pleased for her all the same. He had no doubt that she and Harry now had a type of connection based on their stay in prison; Severus' best guess would have been that Harry would draw comfort from her presence.

The Potions Master knocked lightly on the door to Harry's room, before slowly opening it. Voldemort was sitting in the chair a few feet away from the child's bed, looking both relaxed and agitated at the same time; it was a startling combination. The Dark Lord looked slightly uncomfortable, and as soon as he saw his followers enter the room, he quickly rose to his feet.

The reaction in Harry's face was immediate. He was still extremely weak, and therefore unable to jump up and run to Bella; however, his green eyes lit up with happiness. Bella had a similar look gracing her features, and after looking to Voldemort for approval, she ran to the boy and hugged him gently.

Severus turned, almost unwilling to witness the reunion that was sure to involve tears. Voldemort similarly turned and motioned to Severus to exit. He followed the man out of the room, not before looking back once.

Voldemort led him to his personal chambers, and Severus immediately knew better than to ask questions. When they arrived, Voldemort took his seat in the large throne-like chair, while Severus stood awkwardly in front of him.

Voldemort looked undoubtedly distraught, and Severus purposefully kept his face down, his eyes low. When the man wanted him to do something, he would give the orders.

He had to wait quite a few minutes before the Dark Lord broke the silence. When he did, Severus couldn't help but be surprised.

"Did I make the right decision, Severus?" His voice was anxious, and questioning all the same. The Potions Master didn't have to look far to discover what the man was talking about.

"I believe the right choice is unimportant, my Lord," Severus said quietly. "What matters is that Harry Potter will now grow up the way you want him to."

The silence that followed left Severus wondering if he had said the right thing, but Voldemort eventually sighed again. "Yes, I know that, Severus, thank you. But what I really want to know is- will the boy be… happy here?"

Severus this time was completely shocked. He had never known the Dark Lord to even _care_ about the happiness of another, let alone strive to achieve it; this certainly was an unexpected turn, and one that he couldn't help but guess the cause for.

Feeling particularly bold, Severus lowered his face again and asked quietly, "Excuse my impertinence, my Lord, but could you be feeling guilty?"

It was now Voldemort's turn to look shocked, and Severus tensed himself and waited for the punishment that would surely come. However, after a few minutes of yet another silence without any repercussions for his words, Severus chanced a glance up.

Voldemort was staring off into the distant corner of the room, looking both thoughtful and pained. Severus stayed quiet but studied the man, who looked almost sad. It was a strange look coming from the one Severus had come to expect only pain and agony from.

Eventually, Voldemort spoke once again. "Perhaps I am, Severus. Perhaps I was… unwise to take the lives of the Potters."

--

Bella couldn't hold her tears in. She had immediately climbed up on the bed as soon as she had seen the boy, awake; he was now leaning against her shoulder, his face showing a look of utter happiness and relaxation.

"We escaped, Bella!" He whispered slowly, his eyes shining with unshed tears of happiness. She stroked his hair gently, nodding slightly and shifting to a more comfortable position.

"Yes, we did, Harry," she responded, smiling at him. She couldn't quite grasp how happy she felt to be back with the child she had grown so fond of. "It's going to be okay, I promise."

Silence reigned for a few minutes, both just happy to be back where they felt comfortable; however, Harry eventually broke the quiet.

"I feel different, Bella," he said slowly. "Why do I feel different?" His face was confused, and he subconsciously ran one hand across his chest.

Bella sighed. It was in this situation that she felt completely lost; she wasn't exactly sure how to explain to a mere_ child_ that he now had the weight of the world resting on his shoulders. Not only that, but Harry had to learn of his new mentors, the people he was inevitably now bound to. It was a burden for someone so young, and Bella couldn't help but secretly resent that it was left up to her to explain such a huge change in the child's life.

"Do you remember anything?" Bella began by asking, trying to determine whether or not Harry remembered the pain and the fever he had experienced before the ritual was performed. When Harry nodded slightly, wincing, she took that to mean _yes_.

"Well, the man who was sitting here with you? The one with the pale face?" She asked, looking for a sign of recognition. When Harry nodded once again, looking afraid, Bella continued. She stroked his hair as she talked, and squeezed his hand, hoping to relay a message of comfort to him.

"A ritual was performed," Bella began. "One that bound you to two people- the man who was here with you before, and another man who you knew as a child."

Bellatrix _knew_ she wasn't doing an extremely good job explaining what was going on; but she was trying to tell him in terms he would understand. She hoped it was working.

Harry's eyes had lit up, however, when she had said _another man who you knew as a child_. "Who?" he whispered, looking at her trustingly.

"His name is Sirius Black," Bella responded, watching him carefully. Would he remember the man? He had been so young…

It was immediately obvious, however, that Harry did indeed remember the man. His green eyes were even brighter, and the smile on his face was undoubtedly real as he exclaimed, "Paddy!"

Bella couldn't help but laugh at that, and the sound was refreshing to her ears. When had she last laughed? She knew that Sirius' nickname in school from his friends had been "Padfoot," and she had no doubt that James and Lily had called him that in Harry's presence.

Bellatrix was also slightly relieved that Harry would have at least someone in this deal, besides herself of course, who would care for him unconditionally. She had never been on extremely good terms with her cousin, except when they were children, but she knew that he was extremely loyal and that he had loved Harry.

It took the small child a few minutes to return to what they had been talking about previously. "Why am I… b-bound to them?" He asked, struggling to remember the word the woman had used.

Bella sighed once again. "You are a Protector, Harry," she said bluntly, but still kindly. "You have a destiny- one that means you are meant to save the world."

"Like a superhero?" Harry exclaimed, and Bella grinned and ruffled his hair. She barely knew what a superhero was, but she assumed it was something Muggle- someone who saved the day. Beyond that, she thought it was immensely amazing how resilient little children were; even after his horrid, scarring experience in Azkaban, Harry was still as innocent and kind as he had been before.

Bella was immensely grateful that Harry had given her a way out of the difficult explanation of what "saving the world" exactly meant.

"Yes, Harry. Exactly like a superhero." That was all she said before smiling at him and continuing to explain about his new mentors, essentially his new family. She couldn't help but feel an uncomfortable little nudge in the back of her head, however- she was leaving something out, but she didn't know exactly how to say it.

After all, how were you supposed to tell an eight-year-old that saving the world didn't always mean fun and games?

--

**What did you think of this chapter? Thank you all for your opinions about who Harry should befriend and when Dumbledore should find out about these new developments!**

**And another poll: What should Harry's main personality be? For example, strong and tough but needing love; weak but ambitious; strong but arrogant; etc. **

**Thanks! Please review!**


	10. Arrival

**Shattered Surrender  
**_by sick-atxxheart  
_Chapter Ten

--

The graveyard was dark, and the Dark Lord carefully concealed his smirk beneath his cloak as the Death Eaters circled slowly around him, their own faces masked with both fear and cloth. As much as he loved being in charge, he loved instilling fear in others even more; he had never been quite sure exactly where that love and desire had come from, but he indulged it willingly.

He carefully studied the faces of those around him, and identified a few before giving up and looking thoughtfully at the ground once more. Voldemort had indeed spent much time contemplating exactly who he believed were unconditionally loyal to him; the list he had come up with was rather disappointing, to say the least. He knew without any doubt that both Severus Snape and Bellatrix Lestrange were unwaveringly dedicated to his cause; he had given both of them _many, many _opportunities to prove themselves, and both had almost always passed with flying colors. Their hatred for the Light side of things, and Dumbledore in particular, nearly rivaled his own. That fact in itself was impressive.

Aside from those two, Antonin Dolohov had proved himself generally trustworthy; Voldemort respected the man to a certain degree, but found him to be rather dimwitted in certain matters. Yaxley also was useful in terms of spell-casting and manipulation; but other than that, he was a rather arrogant man with an unpleasant disposition. Despite Voldemort's own anger issues, he didn't appreciate other people contesting his decisions or opinions; in general, those who did normally ended up dead. It was rather unfortunate when a useful man had to run off his mouth.

Fenrir Greyback was an irreplaceable asset, and Voldemort had no desire to let him go from his ranks; but the werewolf's bloodlust often got in the way of direct orders. The Dark Lord knew that couldn't be helped, so it was for that reason the man wasn't dead already; but regardless, Greyback wasn't a good choice for bigger missions. Voldemort didn't trust him explicitly, but he was still glad to have him in his inner circle.

Voldemort didn't, and wouldn't, trust Peter Pettigrew with anything more than his next meal. Why he kept the rat-like man around, he wasn't really sure. With the new developments of Harry Potter coming to headquarters, Voldemort wasn't sure exactly what to do with the man. It was undeniable that Pettigrew couldn't know about the child; once a traitor, always a traitor, he thought. At least in most cases- excluding that of Severus, it was entirely different…

Lucius Malfoy was one that constantly puzzled him. He had always been loyal to the cause, even to the point of willingly offering his life; but the Dark Lord could still _see_ the fear, _see_ the uncertainty, _see_ the hesitation in the man's eyes when receiving a direct order. Voldemort knew that Lucius had his own wife, and his own child. Voldemort knew that somewhere inside of him he still had a bit of a heart, and for that reason he was often lenient with the man in regards to his family. However, trusting Lucius was still something he had to seriously contemplate every time the opportunity arose.

There were, of course, others that came every time he called them; but they were merely casualties, young ones who thought the thrill of serving a Dark Lord would be a good story to tell. He had taught them their lesson well, and quickly after they had joined; but they were much too far involved to be let go easily. They were dispensable, though, and Voldemort was rather unconcerned with them. Perhaps they knew of _some_ of his plans, but he didn't trust them in the least bit. Every once in a while, in fact, he fed those new Death Eaters a small, insignificant piece of false information that would still be worthwhile to the light side; if anything came out of the lie, he knew who had spread it.

Quite a few had lost their lives from those little betrayals.

Tearing away from those thoughts, Voldemort returned to staring down the men in front of him. His circle was small tonight; notably, Bellatrix and Severus were missing. He could see a few of the Death Eaters looking suspiciously around, no doubt counting the number of those in the circle; lateness always meant punishment. Undoubtedly they were just grateful that they wouldn't be on the receiving end.

Everything was eerily silent, and the air was filled with tangible tension until Voldemort broke it with his smooth, cold voice. "Is everyone accounted for?" He hissed quietly. He knew perfectly well who was there and who was not; but he enjoyed giving them to contemplate, something to do. Sometimes, the Death Eaters really were imbeciles. He had to prompt them for _everything_.

"E-Everyone, my Lord," Lucius Malfoy began, stepping forward, "except Bellatrix and Severus." Both names were sneered from the man's mouth, making it obvious the disdain he felt for them; however, Voldemort knew it was all a ruse. While Lucius may not care all that much for his wife's sister, he and Severus were acquaintances, if not friends.

As for Bella- Voldemort was sure that a few of the Death Eaters were at least interested to see how Azkaban had treated her. She had been quite unstable _before_ being imprisoned, and he imagined that they could only dream of how she would be now. Bella had actually been surprisingly level-headed, however, when he spoke to her; he was glad of that fact. He needed her power. However, he would be almost _kind_ to her when that insanity did show through, as he knew it would; after all, she had suffered through Azkaban for him… In his mind, she had a bit of a right to be insane…

"Ah, yes," Voldemort said coldly, carefully concealing any emotion from showing on his pale face. "I have Bellatrix and Severus on assignment, and they are therefore excused from tonight's meeting. They have served me well in the past few days, and I am pleased with them."

His revelation of the fact that the two would be gone for the next few meetings had been carefully planned and worded, in order to ensure the best reaction. Voldemort smirked once again as he watched the poorly disguised shock appear on the faces of the men in front of him. Oh, how they wished they could have been the ones to serve him well!

Voldemort had decided long before the meeting, as soon as he had taken Harry Potter from Azkaban, in fact, that only a select few of his inner circle would be granted the privilege of actually knowing of Harry's presence in headquarters. Of course, the outbreak had been publicized to the point of obnoxiousness, so everyone knew that the boy had been taken during the escape. However, Voldemort could only assume that almost everyone considered the child to be dead, or close to dead, anyway. He preferred them to think that way.

He had decided that Bellatrix and Severus would stay with the boy at all times not for their own peace of mind, but for the boy's comfort instead. Sirius was also staying with Harry. The man, along with Bellatrix, had been sleeping ever since he had been allowed a bed and time to rest; Voldemort wasn't surprised. He trusted Sirius Black, and had frankly been surprised that no one had mentioned his absence when he had asked. _Perhaps they've forgotten about him…_

Regardless, Voldemort wanted Harry to be as comfortable as possible. He didn't particularly _care_, but he sympathized with Harry Potter in a way he didn't think many could. They had had similar childhoods of hell, and he had no desire to wish more pain on a seemingly innocent child. Aside from those facts, ever since the ritual had been performed, Voldemort's feelings towards Harry had been slowly changing.

_Curse emotions!_ He thought to himself, turning back to the men. He really had to start controlling his mind. It certainly did like to wander…

A foolish Death Eater was speaking up, and Voldemort looked appraisingly at him, fingering his wand in his robes. He was just waiting to strike, for anyone suicidal enough to test him- any mention of- oh, yes…

"My Lord… Excuse my boldness… But what of Harry Potter?"

"_Crucio_," Voldemort hissed softly, the jet of light shooting out of his now-drawn wand before the man could react. It landed with ease right on the Death Eater's chest, and the screams began. They were just as unsettling as the silence.

"My personal business," he hissed again, "Is absolutely _none_ of yours." His red eyes flashed, and Voldemort took a deep breath to keep his anger checked. He had known someone would ask- he had prepared. He didn't need to kill someone simply for asking a stupid question- at least, he _shouldn't_…

He turned abruptly, letting the curse fall off the man. He could hear the foolish Death Eater stumbling around, trying desperately to get up. No one helped him.

Spinning around and staring each man in the face, Voldemort spoke soft enough so his voice was barely audible. His words had an immediate effect on each person there; they all shuddered nearly invisibly.

"Harry Potter is as good as dead."

He knew without a doubt that the little piece of news he had just shared would be in the Daily Prophet by morning.

He didn't care. _Let them think…_

--

Harry was slowly improving. It had only been about seven hours since the ritual had been performed, but the boy's temperature was back to normal; his body seemed to be functioning properly; and he was alert, if not exhausted. Severus had been feeding him nutritional and strengthening potions every hour, on the hour, along with soft food he knew the boy's tender stomach could handle. Harry accepted it all willingly, with only a murmured word of thanks.

The Dark Lord had informed Severus of the abuse Harry had suffered at the hands of the Dursleys, and the Potions Master had immediately proceeded to curse them into oblivion, at least figuratively. It had taken him quite a few minutes to regain his composure; it was only then that he had noticed Voldemort watching him, amused. He had apologized profusely, but the Dark Lord hadn't seemed to mind. He was funny sometimes.

Voldemort knew of his promise to Lily Potter, before her death. Severus intended to keep it. She had made him swear the vow before she knew of Harry's apparent "Dark magic use," but Severus assumed that she would love the child anyway. Lily had always been that way…

Regardless, Severus often wondered if some of Harry's reactions stemmed from living with abuse for nearly five years. It would make sense; the little boy had a shattered, tragic life, and being haunted by those events was an expected response. Severus' own life of abuse had taught him much about dealing with emotions- but mostly just to hide them away, and forget about them, instead of living them out…

Severus didn't want Harry to end up that way, and he vowed to do all he could to ensure it wouldn't happen.

It was late evening, and Severus stared blankly at the wall. He was the one currently watching Harry; both Bellatrix and Sirius were both sleeping, and he was more than willing to let them do so. Merlin knows he could stay up a few hours later…

What was most curious about the situation was that he, Bella, and Sirius had all been excused from the meeting. He had felt his Dark Mark burn, and it had been a fight to deal with the pain and not go, simply to make it end; but he had done it, and now there he sat.

In the corner of his mind, he heard footsteps in the hall. Rising without a thought, Severus quickly slipped out the door. _It wouldn't do to have someone enter without knowing_, he thought with a shudder. Surely the Dark Lord would not be pleased.

It was _Pettigrew_. Severus recognized the small man with such disdain that the look on his face nearly sent Peter running in the other direction. Severus quickly asked a question, however, and stopped him in his tracks.

"What do you want?" He spat, towering over the rat-like man menacingly.

"There-there's an owl," Pettigrew said, stuttering and shuddering as usual. "For the Dark Lord- I don't know what to do with it-"

"You _do with it_ what you do with every other letter for the Dark Lord!" Severus roared. "What else would you do, you incompetent little rat?"

Peter spluttered indignantly for a minute or two, before whispering, "But- but S-Severus, it's from D-Dumbledore."

--

**Please review. I didn't get as many for the last chapter... but what do you think? I know I brought Dumbledore in early, but it won't go as you think. Thanks for all your reviews this far.**

**Poll: Do you like how I'm writing Voldemort, or is he wayyyy to OOC? I know he's being kinder than in canon, but I think it's making sense. He's only truly being kind to Bella, Sirius, Severus, and Harry. He's kind to the first three because he trusts them, and to Harry because he is his "mentor"... other than that, is his personality good? I'm writing him to be slightly insane but brilliant, I think. Let me know!**


	11. Developments

**Shattered Surrender  
**_by sick-atxxheart  
_Chapter Eleven

--

All the color drained out of Severus' face immediately as he stared at the fearful man in front of him. He couldn't deny that he himself was afraid, now; despite the fact that Voldemort had been in a surprisingly good mood lately, that meant nothing when it came to Dumbledore; it was quite obvious to most that Voldemort didn't share well. Dumbledore had nearly equal power to the Dark Lord, if in different forms, and it obviously drove Voldemort crazy. Letting him know that _Dumbledore_ had contacted him about the Boy-Who-Lived couldn't be good.

Taking what was meant to be a deep, calming breath, Severus eyed Pettigrew with disdain and brought his emotions back in to check. It wouldn't do to have the rat think he was... weak. After all, the small man could be quite an enemy when it came to blackmail and betrayal. Severus really had no desire to have to deal with that type of thing right now.

Breaking the smaller man out of this thoughts (and his shuddering, thank Merlin), Severus abruptly said, "Bring it here." With a squeak, Pettigrew shuffled away as fast as his little legs would carry him.

Severus couldn't help but smirking and sighing. _Pathetic_. Even during their school days, Pettigrew had always been squirrely and weak, choosing to follow whoever would give him power and the time of day; it really was a shame. Severus hated the man, first and foremost because he betrayed Lily; and secondly, simply because he was a disgrace of a man.

Shaking his head abruptly to clear his mind of anything other than the situation at hand, Severus quickly concentrated on exactly what he should do. If Pettigrew was back, it was obvious that the Dark Lord would be too, unless he had taken some of the other Death Eaters on a raid; but Severus almost thought that would be unlikely. With the new development of Harry being at headquarters, along with him being a Protector- Severus could only assume that Voldemort would be preoccupied enough to not leave headquarters.

Hoping he was right, Severus sighed deeply. He wasn't exactly sure why he had volunteered to take the letter to the Dark Lord; the man wouldn't be happy at _all_, and surely punishment would be given just for the hell of it. Why he would want to subject himself to that, Severus wasn't quite positive; but his mind almost told him that perhaps he could present the letter in a better light than Pettigrew would. In fact, he was _positive_ he could.

Taking another steadying breath, Severus stood up straighter as Pettigrew came scurrying back in to the room and handed him a rolled-up scroll of parchment. Cursing inwardly, Severus waved absent-mindedly for Pettigrew to leave. He had to make a decision, and fast.

His mind was screaming for him to _dispose of the evidence_; it said to _destroy the letter_; it was crying out for him to _run away_. Severus stoically ignored those thoughts, and instead rushed back to his room, scroll still in hand, to think of something else.

It only took him the lesser part of half an hour to decide what he was going to do- and that _very ingenious_ plan was, he would do nothing. No- Severus had decided that creating an elaborate scheme to make the Dark Lord not as enraged would only be a bad idea. Despite how strong of an Occlumens Severus was, Voldemort was still better; no matter how hard he tried to hide things from the Dark Lord, it didn't _always_ work. Of course, Severus could hide his personal thoughts and feelings well enough, only because he had the drive to do it. Severus valued privacy above all else, and for that reason he was hesitant to delve into the Dark Lord's reactions.

Trying desperately not to let his mind stray, Severus shook his head softly and began the long trek down to the Dark Lord's chambers. He absolutely _abhorred_ having to interrupt the man when it was his own, personal time; the reactions were normally not pleasant, and it just left a person with an unsettled feeling.

Severus cursed Dumbledore under his breath as he walked, subtly adjusting his mask as he went. He hated the mask almost as much as he hated… well, just about anything; wearing it reminded him of the fact that Lily had been practically killed because of his own selfishness. He knew that Dumbledore believed him to be a double agent, working for both the Light and Dark sides; but if Severus had to be truthful, he was growing tired of the job. He would admit in a heartbeat that lying to two masters you had sworn loyalty to really took a toll on him. He knew soon he would have to make a final decision on where his loyalties truly laid.

Severus had a sinking suspicion he already knew; and he hated himself for it, but he couldn't deny it. His true heart rested with the Dark, and with Voldemort, and with the Death Eaters; and as much as he claimed to hate everything about the cause, most of it had been lies. His own personal manipulation had already been laid, and despite himself Severus smirked when thinking on it.

It only added fuel to flame that Dumbledore had so foolishly condemned Harry to an undeserved hell. How could the man, who claimed to be _grandfatherly_ and working only for the _greater good_, just throw away his precious Boy-Who-Lived so easily?

Severus hated that he knew the answer. Dumbledore had been conditioning the boy- _get used to pain, and you'll survive later on_. What a cruel lesson to teach; and Severus almost laughed out loud as he thought on how the old man's plan had completely backfired on him. Harry was in the hands of the enemy now, and if everything went right, Harry would grow up stronger than Dumbledore could have ever imagined- _and on the opposite side_.

Sighing resignedly, Severus arrived at the tall door that marked the entrance to the Dark Lord's quarters. He could practically _feel_ the magical wards surrounding it at all sides, allowing no chance of entering without permission; Severus had to admit that Voldemort was not only insanely powerful, but also remarkably adept at setting protective wards. He guessed it came along with the whole being-a-massively-powerful-Dark-Lord thing.

Smirking gently when he realized that his magical signature was intertwined in the wards' makeup, Severus walked right through them and knocked hesitantly on the door. Immediately, he backed away slightly from the door and bowed his head respectfully.

It took the man a minute or two to get to the door, in which Severus waited patiently. When the heavy piece of wood slid open, Severus looked up quickly and was surprised to see the almost _shadowed_ quality to Voldemort's red eyes. It was a truly… disturbing sight, and one the Potions Master hoped to Merlin he would never see again. The Dark Lord's eyes were scary enough when they looked _normal_- this, oh, _this_ was even worse.

Returning his gaze down to the floor, Severus waited for Voldemort to acknowledge his presence. When he noticed out of his peripheral vision the Dark Lord's slight nod, he began speaking, all the while staring at the hem of the man's ever-black robes.

"My Lord," Severus' silky smooth voice rang out over the quiet of the hall, "We have received an owl from Dumbledore."

With an uncharacteristically shaky hand, Severus reached out and handed the parchment to the Dark Lord. He was inconspicuously watching for the man's reaction; when there was none that could be seen with the bare eye, he was rather disappointed. As much as Severus didn't want to be punished, he had expected _rage_; he had expected anger. The Dark Lord usually never failed to deliver those emotions.

When there was no response garnered from Voldemort, Severus took his foolish chances and turned to leave. He wasn't surprised when Voldemort's cool voice interrupted his path; no, it was what he _said_ that surprised Severus.

"Severus," the man said softly, eying the parchment in his hand with a disdain and apprehension that Severus hadn't expected to see on his face. "You are expected in the Grand Chamber in ten minutes."

Nodding, after pausing a second to comprehend his words, Severus turned once again and strode away.

--

Sirius had _finally_ woken from his long nap; Bella couldn't deny that she herself had been exhausted, but Harry had taken the first priority. Then again, Sirius had been in Azkaban longer than she had… Perhaps that fact in itself must be taken into account.

Confirming once again that Harry was sleeping peacefully, Bellatrix slipped from the room and tiptoed across the hall. She couldn't quite shake the feeling of apprehension that something was going to happen, and soon; something that would surely change both her and Harry's fate.

Opening the door silently to Sirius' room, Bellatrix was greeted with the sight of her cousin sitting on the lone chair in the room, his head in his hands and his eyes shut. Clearing her throat quietly, Bella leaned against the wall across the room and looked at Sirius.

They had been best friends throughout Hogwarts, and their relationship had gotten even deeper when they both joined the ranks of Voldemort; they were more like friends with benefits, and had offered one another comfort in the times of dire need. Despite Bellatrix's deep loyalty to the Dark Lord, she had offered Sirius compassion and sympathy in the few days after James' and Lily's deaths, before he was sent wrongfully to Azkaban.

Their stays in Azkaban had obviously divided them now, as they both had been through more pain than they could imagine. Bella liked to forget it; she imagined Sirius did too.

She waited amazingly patiently as Sirius rubbed his tired eyes a few times more before looking up at her through hooded eyelids. His eyes were full of pain, but she could see the hope in them also.

Bellatrix stayed completely still as she watched Sirius slowly stand up, obviously struggling to stand properly. She didn't move to help him, however; if she knew him at all, she knew that he wanted to do _everything_ on his own.

Their eyes met once again, both leaning against opposite walls, both exhausted and broken and tired and completely _angry_.

It only took what seemed to be a few seconds before they were entangled in one another's arms, hugging so desperately both could barely breathe. It was the first _true_ human contact Sirius had had in almost a decade and a half; and aside from Harry, Bellatrix was in a similar situation.

It was rather heartbreaking, really; Bellatrix could _almost_ feel tears forming at the corners of her eyes, but she quickly blinked them away. Sirius couldn't believe the feeling of having someone, _anyone_, in his arms again, hugging him back- and the feeling was immaculate.

They had their best friend back. Even if they were exact opposites, they didn't particularly care. Merlin knows they could use all the help they could get.

--

Bella lead Sirius into Harry's room, where he was still sleeping pretty peacefully. Despite the addiction that could come from dependency on Dreamless Sleep, Severus had thought it best that the boy have a few nights of relaxation before being forced back into the reality of nightmares. He hadn't had his dose yet, however, and was sleeping amazingly well on his own.

Bellatrix sat on the edge of the child's bed, gently waking him up with soft words and kind hands. Sirius lingered near the doorway, his face still showing signs of exhaustion, but he was excited at the same time. How would Harry react to him? Would it be different, now that Sirius was a "mentor" due to the ritual that had been performed? They were venturing into a world of unknowns, and Sirius was frankly afraid of what the consequences would be. What if they were more than he was willing to pay?

Shaking his head resignedly, Sirius watched with interest as Harry awakened, his childlike innocence still very much intact. It was almost ridiculous how well he was adapting to those around him; even Severus, who didn't have any connection with Harry that Sirius could name.

The more he thought about it, however, the more it made sense. Harry would most likely be comfortable and at ease around himself and Voldemort, because of the ritual; Bellatrix had been with Harry in Azkaban, comforting him and being his friend; and Severus had been the one who healed Harry from his pain. Ultimately, it did all make sense. However, Sirius would bet a lot of money that Harry would be skittish, shy, and reserved around those he was uncomfortable with or wasn't used to. That only made sense, too.

Sirius was startled out of his thoughts once again as he noticed Harry smiling broadly up at him from his bed. Out of pure instinct, Sirius walked slowly to the bed, returning the little boy's smile.

He waited hesitantly for Harry tos peak, not wanting to misinterpret the child's grin for something else- even more so, for _fear_. So Sirius just waited, and after what seemed to just be seconds, he was rewarded by Harry speaking to him.

"Paddy!" Harry intoned, still grinning up at his godfather. "Siri!"

Without another word, Sirius held out his arms, and the child scrambled up into them contentedly. Despite how cheesy and cliché the situations seemed, he was immensely relieved that Harry was comfortable around him.

The question now was whether Harry had reacted that way because of the bond, or because he remembered Sirius?

--

The Grand Chamber was eerily quiet and dark when Severus entered, and he carefully concealed his face in the shadows as he headed towards the lone light in the room. He knew Voldemort would be placed under that light in a single chair; but he would conjure another for Severus, once he knew he was there.

Sometimes, the Dark Lord was amazingly amicable towards Severus. He didn't quite know what to make of it.

Coming up in front of the man with a heavy step in order to warn him, Severus found his familiar chair waiting for him. These… _discussions_, for lack of a better term, were the only time that Severus was allowed to not only remove his mask but also speak his mind when in the Dark Lord's presence.

Oh, how he loved these moments, as rare as they were.

Voldemort was still holding the parchment in his hand, looking at it as if he was unsure of what to do about it. But beneath his seemingly weak façade, Severus could practically _see_ the insane, gleeful Dark Lord that he knew, just waiting to come out. It was rather amusing, really, how Voldemort liked to play games every living moment of his life (if you could count his _existence_ as living).

Severus sunk down in the chair and looked at Voldemort carefully, respect still etched in his face. He was always extremely cautious during these meetings; the Dark Lord had a temper that rivaled anyone else's, and to get on the bad side of that temper was a very bad idea indeed.

The letter was thrust at him, and Severus carefully read the lines in Dumbledore's handwriting:

_Dear Tom,_

_It has come to my knowledge – and let me assure you, I have more than one source – that you are holding Harry Potter in captivity after your break-in to Azkaban. As Harry Potter's legal guardian, due to the facts that his parents are dead and his godfather is a convicted murderer, I demand that you return the child to me immediately. If you do not, I will not only take legal action against you (although even I have my doubts on how effective that will be,) but in addition, I will come and take him myself._

_While these actions might seem foolish and even suicidal to you, let me say with the utmost sincerity that Harry is a child, and does not deserve to be tortured and treated cruelly. While it might be hopeless to appeal to your humanity, let me please try- Harry is a little boy, and he deserves a life that is worth living. Forgive my rudeness, but I do not believe that you are willing or even capable of giving Harry such a life._

_You have one day._

_Albus Dumbledore_

Severus had to try his hardest not to actually laugh out loud at the man's letter. It was so insanely riduclous it was comical; who in their right mind, who knew Harry's story, would send him back to Dumbledore? No one, Severus guessed, not even Voldemort.

The Dark Lord was watching him intensely, waiting for his response. Severus chose to just answer truthfully, as he knew it was what mattered most in this moment.

"This is ridiculous," Severus said offhandly, returning his gaze to the decorated tiles on the floor. "Don't give Harry back."

The advice was so simple and so _perfect_ that it completely made sense to Voldemort; and as his face broke into a rare smile, his red eyes began glittering with glee.

Voldemort stood up and walked powerfully to the lone window in the room, looking out of it with a manic face that practically scared Severus. When the Dark Lord turned back around, his eyes were ruthless.

"Oh, let him come here," Voldemort hissed, his voice full of venom. "And we- yes, we will be waiting."

--

**What did you think? Yes, this is a manipulative!Dumbledore story, as demonstrated by the letter. Was Voldemort way to OOC again? Probably not, as it fits with the way I have been portraying him.**

**Was Harry's acceptance of Sirius too fast? I tried to make it not seem cheesy, but it kind of wrote itself.**

**Thanks for all your reviews. Keep them coming!**


	12. Confrontation

**Shattered Surrender  
**_by sick-atxxheart  
_Chapter Twelve

--

That night, Severus slept fitfully. Voldemort's manic grin still shone in his mind, and he couldn't quite place if the man was just insane, or if he really had a plan that would make Dumbledore pay. He hoped to Merlin that it was the latter; _making Dumbledore pay_ was something Severus himself had dreamed about for years. He was only grateful that the Dark Lord had realized that dream, and allowed him to take part in it.

Finally giving up on sleep sometime after four in the morning, Severus rose and made his way to Harry's room. Bella had chosen to sleep with him, and they were both curled up against one another. Harry looked startlingly small against Bellatrix's sleeping form; but still, the fact that the child was still loving and caring was amazing in itself.

Bella's injuries had been just as grievous as Harry's; she had been tortured just as much as he had, if not more, due to the fact that she had been in Azkaban longer. Severus had healed her injuries second, at her own request; Harry had taken the top priority over both her and Sirius, at their insistence. He had been more than willing to follow that, but he had healed their life-threatening wounds first, along with Harry's, before doing anything else.

But now, Severus was truly _exhausted_, and he cursed the fact that he couldn't sleep. It was rather convenient, really; his mind was screaming that he would be needed that day, in the confrontation that was sure to come. He knew that Voldemort wouldn't give up Harry, now; not to anyone, especially Dumbledore.

What he couldn't quite figure out was whether it was because of the mentor-bond that had been established, or if it was just because Voldemort was selfishly gathering and gaining power, in any shape or form. Severus actually guessed it was the first, but since he had no real _proof_ of that fact, he would be careful not to trust the bond in the very least.

Bellatrix had told him in quiet whispers before she slipped off to sleep of Harry's meeting with Sirius. He was grateful that the child had accepted his godfather so quickly, and even remembered him; it seemed too good to hope for. Harry deserved those who would love him, though, and the Potions Master was rather relieved that everything thus far had worked out so spectacularly. He disapproved and fought against the mistreatment of children perhaps more than anything, due to his own history.

Sighing again and quickly clearing his head, Severus checked on the sleeping child. After he assured himself twice that he was okay, and that Bella would be there regardless if anything happened, he left and went to stroll the corridors. When he was at Hogwarts, it was one of the things that soothed him the most; he had a persona to keep up, of course, but _everyone_ needs comfort sometimes.

The silence of the four walls surrounding him as he paced grounded Severus, and he couldn't stop himself from contemplating what would happen that day. Would Dumbledore _truly_ be foolish enough to come and try to forcefully take Harry away? He knew in his heart that the answer was _yes_, but he desperately hoped it would not be so. He had no doubt that Voldemort, for a variety of reasons, would protect Harry and himself to any level; it was exactly _how far_ he would go that Severus was concerned with.

Although Severus hated Dumbledore for being a meddling, old coot, he couldn't forget the few times that the man had offered advice and comfort when it was needed. Beneath his cold exterior, Severus too broke down sometimes; and Dumbledore had surprisingly been there in those times. Severus had began to look at the old man as a sort of mentor; that had changed with recent events, but Severus still couldn't quite bring himself to wish the man dead.

He was almost positive that Voldemort knew how he felt. Despite his strong Occlumency shields, the Dark Lord was a master at reading emotions and body language. Severus had tried over the years to hide everything, including keeping all emotion out of his face and movements; but it had never really worked. As it came to now, Severus didn't really mind that the Dark Lord knew his thoughts- most of them, anyway.

Severus sighed and resumed his pacing. He could only watch, wait, and hope for the best.

--

As the sun rose over the horizon that morning, it set up a rather glorious view that Voldemort almost found himself enjoying. The simple pleasures in life were sometimes the best; after all, blood and pain and murder and torture weren't everything. At least most of the time.

He had had an astoundingly hard time sleeping that night. Perhaps it had been the excitement he felt at the fact that _Dumbledore_ forcibly coming to see him, to take something from him; he had no doubt that he had enough forces to kill the old man easily. What he was rather confused about, however, was how Dumbledore knew where his headquarters were, and what was more- how to get into them.

Voldemort shook that feeling off quickly. If Dumbledore knew how to get in, then he would just have to set a trap; a brilliant one, to be sure. He would key the man's magical signature into his wards, so _Dumbledore_ and _only Dumbledore_ would be allowed in. Perhaps it would not work, if Dumbledore thought he could get in to begin with; but it would be worth a try, and would no doubt infuriate the old man. Voldemort grinned. Infuriating Dumbledore was always fun.

And then there was the issue of Harry. Voldemort wasn't quite sure exactly how to go about the TRAINING that the book had told him of; he knew that Occlumency, Llegimency, and wandless and wordless magics, among other things, were all important. However, Voldemort was wise enough to see that Harry probably wouldn't have any experience with a wand, or magic in general. Starting small would be crucial, and he personally had no problem teaching the boy everything from start to finish. He would be easier to mould and influence that way.

The Dark Lord actually did have a plan for how the day was to go. If the timing of Dumbledore's owl was any inclination, the so-called _attack_ would probably come late in the evening. If that was the case, then he had all day to make the best of.

The best course of action to take was to firstly put all his Death Eaters on alert. Although most of the time they were bumbling idiots, they could have their uses; some were very adept that spell-casting, while others simply used their sheer body weight to intimidate others. He would need extra security tonight; that much was for certain.

Secondly, Voldemort planned to spend most of the day with the child, along with Bellatrix, Severus, and Sirus, just for safety. He wanted the Harry to feel comfortable and safe; trust was an important part of any relationship, especially a magical one like theirs. Voldemort guessed that Harry would already trust him nearly unconditionally, due to the bond; but he wanted to establish a _real_ trust, one that the child could fall back on and that Voldemort could trust to hold. Having an older, stronger Harry suddenly realize that Voldemort had perhaps been leading him wrong would not have favorable endings.

What he was really hoping for was that, if prompted, Harry would say that he wanted to remain here, with him, Bellatrix, Sirius, and Severus. Perhaps that was too much to hope for, Voldemort considered; Harry was only a child, and he had gone through more than _anyone_, much less a child, ever should. It was for that reason that he was careful not to underestimate a child; he wouldn't be surprised if Harry was angry at those who had so cruelly thrown him into a hell he couldn't escape from.

Speaking of- Voldemort frowned when he remembered he had promised to talk to Sirius that morning, before doing anything else. That was sure to be an uncomfortable talk; he wouldn't be at all surprised if the man was no longer anywhere near as loyal as he had been. He had killed his best friends, after all…

Shaking his head to clear it, Voldemort strode to his wardrobe and began to look methodically through it. He didn't have anything to worry about; he had his explanation all prepared for Sirius, along with a rather heartfelt apology it had taken him years to think up. Despite the fact that the Dark Lord rarely, if ever, felt compassion, he was rather loyal in return to his faithful Death Eaters. Even though he was Sirius' master, for lack of a better term, he had broken the promise that made the foundation of their agreement.

Dressing quickly, Voldemort called for his house-elf and ordered a rather large breakfast. As usual, the house-elf shook like his life was about to end; Voldemort puzzled over that for a while, before remembering that he had indeed killed a few of his house elves. That was sure to be the problem…

Shaking his head once again- it seemed that his mind was slipping away from him more and more often now- Voldemort dug in to his hearty breakfast, isolated as usual in his personal chambers. He had informed Sirius to be in his receiving chamber at nine-thirty, on the dot; he expected the man to be prompt, and had no reason to think Sirius would not be.

Twenty minutes later, he had nearly finished his breakfast and his daily perusal of the nearly-useless _Daily Prophet_, when an article caught his eye. It was just a little mention, only a title really; but it was very… _curious_.

**MUGGLEBORN GIRL KIDNAPPED FROM MUGGLE FAMILY AND TAKEN INTO MAGICAL CAPTIVITY; MINISTRY STUMPED**

This puzzled Voldemort to no ends. He would have known if his Death Eaters had taken someone into captivity, and they had no reason to kidnap a Muggle girl in the first place. Idly he wondered if she had magic in her; perhaps Dumbledore had done it? Altogether, the possibilities were endless, but rather unlikely.

Sighing quickly, Voldemort just resolved to watch and see what happened.

--

Sirius shook his head as he left the chamber. Voldemort had explained exactly _why_ he had killed Lily and James, and attempted to kill Harry. The reasons in themselves had been rather convincing; however, the fact that the Dark Lord had broken a promise was the fact that bothered Sirius. While he knew that he really shouldn't trust the Dark Lord in the least, he had expected that the man would keep his promise at least slightly. And then, Sirius had gone and gotten thrown into Azkaban, and it had taken the Dark Lord _so many years_ to get him out!

That was what was ridiculous, and Sirus almost cried when he remembered how much pain he had gone through, and how much screaming he had done. He was immensely grateful to Severus for healing him without a second thought; he knew that he would have to have a sit-down conversation with _Snivellus_ eventually. As awkward and heartbreaking as his meeting with the Dark Lord had been, Sirius was rather glad that he had had an explanation, regardless of how pitiful the reasoning had been.

What had surprised him the most was that Voldemort had actually… apologized. It was, of course, worded to sound like a simple dismissal of Sirius; but he had taken it for what it really was, and it had been a real, true apology. It was amazing to Sirius that the Dark Lord could actually have a… _slightly_… kind bone in his body, if any at all.

He had checked on Harry early that morning, before his meeting. It felt strange to be walking again; years and years of living in chains could make someone weak, to say the least. He had to be careful to not overstrain himself.

Anyway, Harry had been still sleeping when he had checked on him. He was immensely glad that the child had accepted him, and he hoped to bond even further that day.

Entering the small room, Sirius was greeted with the sight of young Harry sitting up in bed, eating a modified meal of liquids and soft foods. It was obvious that Severus had him on some ridiculous diet- of course it would be because Harry's small, malnutritioned body couldn't handle real food, but Sirius just wished his godson could just chow down on ice cream and chocolate and all the good things in life.

He cursed the Dursleys and Dumbledore for what seemed to be the millionth time. How was it fair that Harry had had such a wretched life? It wasn't, to any degree. Sirius hoped to Merlin with all his heart that Harry would have a better life here.

He was rather surprised to see Voldemort come into the room behind him. He was infinitely glad that when in a situation like this, he wasn't required to bend and kiss the man's robes; he had always hated that part of being a Death Eater. Sirius hated groveling.

After greeting Harry kindly, Sirius watched the interaction between the people in the room. He preferred, at least for now, to hang back in the shadows; he knew that Voldemort establishing a connection with Harry was much more crucial, at least for this day. Voldemort had informed him that Dumbledore would be coming later in the day, and that Harry had to at least trust the Dark Lord on some level; that much was crucial. He had assured Sirius that Harry would be well protected; that at least had made Sirius feel a bit better.

Aside from that, the fact that Sirius had a wand again made him feel so much more confident. Although it wasn't his own wand (that had been snapped before he was thrown into Azkaban), it was still a wand. His magic was also still weak; but he could feel himself getting stronger, and he hoped that he would be able to at least do _something_ to help if anything happened to Harry.

--

Albus Dumbledore sighed as he neared the edge of the wards surrounding Voldemort's headquarters. It had taken him many years of preparation and research to find out exactly where the headquarters were; it was a shame he had to waste all that time and effort on something as infinitely_ useless_ as Harry Potter. The boy was simply a pawn; throwing him into Azkaban had been a necessary step to ensure the boy would be powerful and hopefully _angry_. He hadn't' really considered the fact that Harry might be angry at _him._

He had two of the Order members with him; they were highly accomplished Aurors. One's name was Matthew; the other was Garrison. It was a shame, Dumbledore considered, that they might perish in this attack.

Shrugging his "shame" off, Dumbledore looked behind him quickly to ensure that the little girl Matthew was restraining was still quiet. After assuring himself that she was, he quickly performed a series of complicated spells he had also spent many years developing; they were a direct approach built to break through any ward, other than the Fidelius Charm itself. Dumbledore was immensely surprised to see that there wasn't one around the premises.

Stepping through the boundary with the ease of a graceful cat (he almost chuckled at the thought of it), Dumbledore was immensely glad to see that they had made it through intact. He checked again to make sure that his guards were with him, and then continued.

The walls were drab, dark, and gray as he walked through them with purpose; he really had no idea where he was going, but assumed that if he went farther into the building, he would reach something important.

That guess proved to be right. After checking a few doors with wands pointed and finding nothing interesting, one huge door revealed a large receiving hall. Voldemort himself was sitting in the chair, idly twirling his wand and looking mildly amused; two masked Death Eaters were standing behind him, their wands also out and ready.

"Hello, Tom," Dumbledore said calmly, motioning for the Aurors to move ahead of him. He quickly cast a mild shield charm, just in case Voldemort would try something. He doubted it; but you could never be so sure. After all, he had no doubts that Tom Riddle was insane.

Coming from him, that was almost a compliment.

It took Voldemort a few minutes to look up, simply because he took his good old time giving the old coot the satisfaction of having his attention. When he did, his face was carefully impassive.

"Dumbledore," Voldemort said coolly. "I'm surprised you showed up."

"Oh?" Dumbledore said politely, eying the room around him, searching for an advantage should a duel begin. "I find that rather foolish. I never break a promise."

Voldemort raised any eyebrow. "Really?" The tension in the air remained untouched, but the question and almost _accusation_ in Voldemort's simple word didn't go unnoticed.

Voldemort rose, and Dumbledore's wand immediately jerked towards him. However, the magic resounding through the room was obvious; heavy shields were in place that would be immensely hard to break through.

"So you want to see young Harry?" Voldemort questioned. At Dumbledore's suspicious nod, Voldemort's smile only grew wider. "Very well. Follow me."

Surprised at his luck, and foolish enough to not see it as a trap, Dumbledore followed blindly behind his arch-enemy. In front of him, carefully hiding his face, Voldemort grinned manically. He had noticed the young girl, standing terrified in the arms of one of the Aurors accompanying Dumbledore; he now knew what the mention in the _Daily Prophet _was about. It changed his plans slightly, but- oh, yes, he could work the child in…

Checking carefully to ensure that his unbreakable shields were still in place, and his two Death Eaters were still following him, Voldemort stopped at the small door and led them in. He allowed the Death Eaters to enter first; extra precaution for the child within the room was completely necessary. Harry, of course, was warded with the exact same shields that were wrapped around Voldemort himself; but regardless, the best protection available was being given to the child.

Harry was sitting up in bed, talking animatedly to a Death Eater with a mask, sitting by the bed. His words were soft and shy, but still strong. Dumbledore couldn't quite place the Death Eater simply by his body type- no, he wasn't perceptible enough for that; however, he did notice that the Death Eater by the bed, along with the two who had just entered the room, all crowded protectively around the child. Voldemort moved to the corner of the room, content to just watch what would happen. He had no doubt that everything would play out on its own. Dumbledore was a fool; he had come for Harry, not for the Dark Lord himself- and if everything went as planned, Dumbledore would die _today_.

"Harry, m'boy!" Dumbledore said cheerfully, moving towards the bed with his wand still out. He immediately regretted that move as all three Death Eaters took a step towards him, menacing looks on their faces, even through their masks. He took a step back once again, taking a second to regroup before plastering the fake smile on his face once more. Harry was watching curiously.

"It's so good to see you looking so healthy," Dumbledore continued. All four members of the Dark had to carefully try and hide their snorts of amusement and contempt that Dumbledore's words. Was the man truly serious?

Harry had shrunk back on his bed, visibly looking afraid- terrified, in fact- of the addition of three strange people in his bedroom, where he had previously felt safe. Voldemort considered to himself that perhaps that had been an unwise choice; but there was no time for that now.

"Who're you?" Harry asked in a small voice, inching over to the side of the bed away from Dumbledore. His green eyes were flashing around the room, looking from Sirius' and Severus' and Bellatrix's masked faces, and finally back to Voldemort's. All four nodded reassuringly at him.

"I, my boy, am Professor Dumbledore," the old coot began, still smiling. "I've come to take you away-"

_Wrong approach,_ Voldemort thought wickedly, hiding a smile, just as Harry began to react.

"_What?! _No- don't take me again- I didn't do anything- please- no-" His face was full of terror and fear as bella began to whisper nothings in his ear, trying desperately to reassure him.

Dumbledore's smile fell immediately, and Voldemort could see his approach shift immediately. Nodding to the Auror on his right, the small girl was thrust forward. The terror on her face was also immediately visible, and Voldemort watched as Harry peeked one eye out from Bella's shoulder to watch what was happening.

"Do you know what happens to people when they stay here, Harry?" Dumbledore said quietly, pointing to the girl with his wand. "Let me show you."

That's when the screams began.

The girl twisted and turned, falling immediately to the ground in pain. Her face was contorted in agony, and her yells and shrieks were piercing and full of pain. Voldemort inwardly winced, but restrained himself. This was about Harry.

It didn't take long for Harry to react. "No, make it stop! Don't hurt her! She didn't do anything! Stop! _STOP!"_ His words became increasingly more desperate as he watched the girl on the floor, seemingly unable to turn away.

Dumbledore had a rather evil look on his face as he alternated staring at the girl and Harry, who was crying desperately now. Bellatrix, Sirius, and Severus were all visibly watching and waiting for Voldemort's cue; they knew not to do anything before they were instructed.

It didn't take long.

"Enough." Voldemort rumbled, waving his wand once; the girl immediately stopped moving. Dumbledore was a fool to not have the girl under a shield to protect her from anyone else, also. "This has gone on long enough, Dumbledore. Is it not quite obvious that Harry doesn't want to leave?"

Dumbledore was silent, looking almost _thoughtful_. Voldemort ignored him, and nodded to Severus, who took long steps to reach the girl, wand still pointed at the old man, and slowly picked her up. She was still sobbing, and she immediately reacted to a kind hand. She huddled against Severus' chest, still crying desperately. Severus walked backwards to end up behind the bed again.

Voldemort frankly looked furious. Was the man more of a fool than he had originally thought? He had brought a _child_ here and tortured her, simply to prove something to Harry! The hypocrisy of it nearly made him laugh.

This time, Dumbledore would be finished.

--

**Isn't Dumbledore a fool? More action about him in the next chapter. In case you didn't catch it, the girl is Hermione. She'll matter later.**

**I've only been getting about 19 reviews per chapter for the last few chapters, but I have over 400 people who get alerts about this story. Can I please have some more, people? What did you think of Dumbledore bringing and torturing the girl to prove a point? Also, a longer chapter! Yay!**

**Please review.**


	13. Outcome

**Shattered Surrender   
_by sick-atxxheart   
_Chapter Thirteen**

-

The girl was still sobbing in Severus' arms, and Dumbledore was still standing thoughtfully in the middle of the room, backed by his two Aurors. Voldemort was against the wall on the side of the room, and Harry was still surrounded by Severus, Bella, and Sirius. Voldemort still had no concerns about the outcome of the confrontation. He was in home territory, surrounded by his own magical wards, with a team of accomplished Death Eaters waiting on his beck and call. Seemingly, nothing could go wrong- especially accompanied by the trick Dumbledore had just pulled.

Voldemort was still immensely confused and puzzled by the stunt that Dumbledore had so cruelly played. Although he was not a sympathetic man, even Voldemort could see that demonstrating torture in front of a child who had been tortured themselves would not be a good idea. Had he expected Harry, a mere child, to understand the metaphor and come racing in to his arms? The opposite seemed likely to happen now, after that. Things were just going better and better, for Voldemort at least.

The room was completely silent except for the sobs of the girl and the now-quieting whimpers of Harry. Bella was calming Harry down by whispering words of comfort to him, and from his position across the room Voldemort could see that she was holding his hand. Voldemort's perceptive eye also noticed Severus slip the girl a Calming Draught that he no doubt had on his person. Severus' usefulness and the extent of his practical sense came to Voldemort's mind, but he dismissed it quickly. He had more important things to ponder on.

Taking a sweeping glance of the room, Voldemort settled his eye on the two Aurors who were standing at the ready behind Dumbledore. It was obvious that they could not be true Ministry Aurors; despite how corrupt the Ministry was, having two Aurors who were so willingly blind to violence, especially against a child, was just despicable. Voldemort had no doubt in his mind that Dumbledore must have either trained them himself, or put them under the Imperius Curse in order to have them follow him.

Voldemort pulled his wand out of his sleeve and began twirling it idly in his hand, noticing how Dumbledore's thoughtful eyes jumped to watch his movements. The Dark Lord was growing tired of waiting.

He didn't have to wait long before Dumbledore spoke again, and his words were just as comical and ridiculous as his actions had previously been. "Perhaps I have taken the wrong approach," the old man said slowly, regret lacing itself through his features. Voldemort couldn't hold back his snort: oh no, he was enjoying the game too much. Although Voldemort knew that he could capture Dumbledore in an instant, now that the old man's back was turned to him, he had decided earlier that proving a point about loyalty to Dumbledore was first necessary. Letting Harry choose for himself between Voldemort and Dumbledore was the first step towards achieving this goal.

Severus, in his corner of the room, was also enjoying watching his old "master" sit and squirm. He too was appalled by the fact that Dumbledore had willingly injured a child to make a point. Although he had known the old man was manipulative, cunning, and perhaps even irresponsible, he had never thought him to be downright cruel. This stunt of his had put his heartlessness at a brand new level.

Severus was surprised to discover that although he was slightly concerned by the situation at hand, he was unworried about the outcome of it. Voldemort's calm, almost serene face was for once almost comforting to Severus. It felt good to know that they truly were on the same side, and would undoubtedly work together to achieve the common goal- which Severus firmly believed was saving Harry from Dumbledore.

The room was still silent, and everyone seemed to almost be waiting with their breaths held to see what would happen next, who would make the next move. Severus wasn't at all surprised when Dumbledore took the initiative and took a careful step towards Harry.

The child, who had been watching him intently out of the corner of his eye, immediately scooted backwards in to the furthest corner of his bed. Bella, Severus, and Sirius both stepped closer to him in unison. Voldemort chuckled to himself.

Dumbledore took another step, his Aurors advancing with him along the way. The old man stole a look at Voldemort, who was looking quite amused but also quite on the ready, with his wand out and his eyes alert. There would be no mistakes this time.

Harry's eyes were huge and fearful, but Dumbledore didn't notice. All he could think of was that Harry Potter will finally be on my side.

When the last few steps between Dumbledore and the bed had been covered, Dumbledore reached out a tentative hand to Harry, attempting now to offer the child an option. Even Bellatrix, who had no children herself and was generally not a motherly person, could tell that it was too late for Harry to want to go with the old man.

Green eyes met blue, and Harry was obviously terrified of Dumbledore and of the hand that was stretched out towards him. As Dumbledore leaned closer, Harry scrambled out of the bed, put his feet on the floor, and stood up in an attempt to get away from the old man.

Harry promptly fell down from his own weakness from his entire ordeal, and Sirius picked him up off the floor tenderly. "It's all right, cub," Sirius whispered softly.

"Siri?" Harry questioned, his head buried in the man's shoulder.

Sirius smiled, still grateful to be accepted by the little one, and said, "I'm here, Harry. Everything will be okay."

Dumbledore was incredulous. "Sirius Black?" he said, his voice disbelieving. How could this day get any worse?

Shooting a quick glance at Voldemort, who gave his permission with a nod, Sirius removed his mask and waved with his free hand at Dumbledore. "Good to see you, Headmaster," he said coldly. "I see you haven't changed at all."

Taking a deep breath and clutching his wand all the tighter, Dumbledore replied, "Was Azkaban good to you, Sirius?"

Sirius's eyes hardened, and he repositioned Harry on his hip before responding. "Azkaban does exactly what it was intended to do," he said simply. Next to him, he felt Bella shiver, and he moved closer to her for comfort.

The tension in the room was tangible as Voldemort finally decided to take control of where the little meeting was headed. "Very well," he said, moving to stand at the bottom of Harry's bed, creating a sort of barrier between the two opposing parties. "I think we have made it quite clear that there are some differences in opinion between us."

Backing up a few steps, still twirling his wand, Voldemort put on an elaborate show of looking thoughtful and contemplative for a few moments, before appearing to have an idea spring upon him. Of course, it was not improvisation that allowed for a brilliant plan to be born: no, Voldemort had hoped events would play out this way. If things kept going the way they were headed, it would be Harry who was choosing who to go with – and Harry's choice had already been made.

"Let us see, Dumbledore," Voldemort spoke softly, mentally strengthening the wards around himself and around his five by the bed. "You came here to retrieve Harry Potter, from what you believe to be an unsafe, inhumane, cruel location. I'm assuming I am correct so far?" He finished politely, looking at the old man with an air of conceit and self-righteousness. At Dumbledore's equally polite, but a little more panicked, nod, he continued.

"Well, as established by your rather grotesque demonstration, Harry is in no more danger here than he would be with you."

Dumbledore was quick to enter in his opinion, obviously trying to calm his voice down as he spoke. "Now, excuse me, Tom, but I do believe that is an over exaggeration. Harry would be protected by all means under my care, and no harm would come to him."

Voldemort raised an eyebrow, incredulous but unsurprised at Dumbledore's words. "Oh really?" he said softly. "Protected by all means under your care? I believe he was under your care when you flung him in to Azkaban, a mere child."

Dumbledore looked sheepish as he replied. "It was a necessary step to take in order to ensure his success later in life."

Voldemort simply laughed at the old man. "Was it, Dumbledore? Well, even if it was a necessary step, it also was a step that lost you your weapon. Harry's not going with you."

"Oh, I do believe he is!" Dumbledore countered, taking a step towards Voldemort defiantly.

Voldemort shook his head at the same time Dumbledore nodded. This cycle of going back and forth between one another went on for a good few minutes, before Voldemort's red eyes gleamed particularly manically and he finally fell silent.

After a few more minutes of silence, Voldemort spoke. "Let's let Harry decide for himself then, shall we?" He smirked when Dumbledore nodded quickly. Foolish old man.

The plan was decidedly foolproof. Harry would undoubtedly go to the one who would provide him with safety, and Voldemort had done nothing but give him food, shelter, and healing. Dumbledore had only provided him with an image that was scary and haunting, one that Harry definitely wouldn't want to be a part of. What was more, Voldemort had Sirius, Bella, and Severus backing him up. If Harry for some reason chose Dumbledore, Voldemort would simply not let him go. There was no chance of failure, mainly because of Dumbledore's stupidity.

It was nice to be able to count on someone else to make the mistakes, for a change.

Nodding at Sirius, Voldemort took a few steps back, putting an appropriate distance between himself and Dumbledore. Sirius carried Harry in between the two men, still carrying him.

"Harry?" Sirius prompted. When Harry looked up at him with his innocent eyes, Sirius continued. "Who would you like to go with?" Sirius asked. "Him," he said, pointing at Voldemort and waiting for Harry's green eyes to meet Voldemort's red ones. "Or him?" Sirius finished, pointing similarly at Dumbledore. Harry wouldn't even meet the old man's startlingly blue eyes.

Harry was silent for a long time before he looked up at Sirius again. "Which side are you on?" he whispered, so quietly that Voldemort and Dumbledore almost couldn't catch his words.

Sirius grinned and pointed at Voldemort. "And Bella and… and Sev, too?" Harry whispered again, looking hesitantly over Sirius' shoulder to the two figures similarly clad in black. The fear in Harry's eyes was immensely obvious, and Sirius hated to see the little boy who deserved so much having so little.

"Yes, Harry," Sirius confirmed, glancing up to look at Dumbledore's perplexed face. "Bella and Severus are on his side, too."

Harry nodded, looking immensely tired. "I want to go with him, Siri," he confided, looking pointedly at Voldemort, who was astoundingly looking a little emotional.

Sirius nodded, smiling, and moved backwards towards Bella with Harry still in his arms. Dumbledore was looking quite astounded; that was the only word that could properly describe his expression.

It wasn't quite that he was in shock that Harry had picked Voldemort over him, especially after the unfortunate way his demonstration had gone over. No, rather, he was surprised had how epically and totally his plan had failed. Unfortuanently, he had conveniently forgotten the fact that he had been the one who put Harry in Azkaban in the first place. Back then, it had seemed like a good idea, especially when you looked at how much it would benefit the Light side in the future. But this- this certainly was a twist.

The addition of Sirius Black in to the equation also complicated things, and according to Harry's whispers, Bellatrix Lestrange and Severus Snape too. No matter; Severus Snape had never truly been on the Light side. Dumbledore knew that, as much as he had never really wanted to admit it. Despite the fact that the man's mental defenses were too strong even for Dumbledore to break through, his actions had just proved that he was truly loyal to the Dark, and to Voldemort.

But what to do now was the main issue in Dumbledore's head. He had Matthew and Garrison behind him, ready to blindly follow him in whatever he wished to do; he knew that was a fact, because they had the strongest Imperius curse possible placed over them. No, that wasn't the problem; the problem was that he was facing the most powerful wizard, next to himself. Adding to that was Bella and Sirius, two powerful magicians who were probably now out of their minds, and Severus, who was immensely strong himself. Dumbledore also had no doubt that Harry could wield some of his accidental magic, if angered and terrified enough. The old man wasn't stupid, even if he was cruel. Angering any one of the five of them would not bode well in this already unfortunate situation.

It was becoming quite obvious to Dumbledore that his only option was to use the element of surprise and launch an attack. The problem, however, was that the power of defensive wards and shields in the room was tangible. Dumbledore could practically feel the magic swirling around him, and he had no doubt that if he fired a spell off, it would just be reflected back. Luckily, however, his own shields were just as strong. Although attacking did perhaps seem foolish, it truly was his only option.

Quickly scanning the room, Dumbledore was downtrodden when he did not see anything he could use to his advantage. The room was plain, white, and almost completely empty except for Harry's now vacant bed. It was four to three, and Voldemort had the clear advantage. There was no doubt in Dumbledore's mind that both Bella and Sirius now possessed wands.

Communicating telepathically with the two Aurors, informing them of his plan, Dumbledore counted to ten slowly and then raised his wand, with the intent of filing off a simple spell-

Unfortunately, Voldemort was faster.

Anticipating an attack had been easy. Dumbledore was stuck, and Voldemort had no inclination to attack first. But after making sure his wards were impenetrable, he had adjusted his robes, all the while subtly running his index finger along the tattoo on his forearm. Bella, Sirius, and Severus had all visibly winced; but they had all concealed their reactions well, returning their faces to expressionless forms of obedience.

The plan to call in the extra Death Eaters had been formulated throughout the day, and expanded upon as the confrontation went along. Although there was no Death Eater that Voldemort trusted quite as much as the three that were in the room with him, the others were at least slightly competent enough to deal with threats.

Voldemort had been watching the Aurors behind Dumbledore carefully while the old man had contemplated his options. They were unmoving and emotionless, and Voldemort had a good guess that they wouldn't react to any external movement - no flinching, jumping, or anything like that. Thus, while Dumbledore was attacking (which was, of course, pointless against Voldemort's shields), the Death Eaters could attack from behind. Dumbledore had no shield around him that prevented any bodily contact, or dispelled anyone from getting so close to him.

The Death Eaters were already thundering outside the door when Dumbledore shot off his curse, with his two Aurors following in suit with their own. The spells harmlessly bounced off of the shields that Voldemort had constructed, and in an instant Bella, Sirius, Severus, and Voldemort all had their wands drawn and pointed at the three across the room.

Before Dumbledore could react again, the Death Eaters had burst through the door and had knocked the two Aurors out cold. Although Dumbledore put up a good fight, throwing a few feeble punches, in a few moments his wand had been confiscated and three masked Death Eaters were holding him by his shoulders. Voldemort almost laughed when he realized that Dumbledore hadn't even attempted to fire off spells at the Death Eaters, who really hadn't had any immense protection spells on them. Maybe the man really was just getting old.

-

Voldemort waved gleefully at a furious caged Dumbledore, cackling madly and spinning around in circles. To Severus, who was standing at the doorway observing, the man looked either insane or just drunk. He knew the first was true, but he was never quite sure about the second.

Severus was, to put it mildly, relieved about the way events had gone down. They had been surprisingly peaceful - only a few spells had been exchanged, and things were going quite well now. Although he of course wished that Dumbledore had been roughed up a little more, seeing the man caged, wandless, helpless, and pretty much hopeless was almost enough. Harry was sleeping peacefully now, exhausted from the excitement, and Sirius and Bella had probably collapsed somewhere too. Severus felt surprisingly compassionate for the two of them; although he had always felt immense resentment towards both, being on the same side helped things. Knowing that they had been through something he could barely imagine also upped up his level of sympathy.

It was a while longer before Voldemort finally finished his rant of taunting and mocking Dumbledore relentlessly, much of which was quite comical to listen to, at least in Severus' opinion. When Voldemort finally moved towards the doorway, Severus backed up, bowed slightly, and then followed him out of the room.

Voldemort had motioned to Severus to follow him, and the Potions Master did so. Voldemort stopped in the hallway just outside the room and turned to Severus, a contemplative look on his face. After a brief pause, he spoke. "Where is the girl?" he said confidently, a look of interest returning to his features.

With a brief nod, Severus turned again and led the Dark Lord to a room across the hall from Harry's. After getting permission from Voldemort, Severus checked on Harry briefly, before continuing in to the other room. The girl was sleeping fitfully, every so often crying out and thrashing.

Severus shook his head and spoke softly. "She's in the same position as Harry now, just not as extensive. She's suffered torture, fear, and intimidation."

Voldemort nodded slowly. "Do you know who she is?"

"I believe she is Hermione Granger," Severus responded, carefully shielding his face in preparation for his next revelation. He knew how Voldemort felt about Muggle-borns. "She has Muggle parents, and was kidnapped from them recently."

Voldemort was silent as he contemplated exactly what he could do with the girl. He hated Muggle-borns and Muggles; they were inferior, useless, and most of all, they reminded him of his past, the past he so wished to forget. The easiest path to take would be to just kill the girl and be done with it; he had killed children countless times before, and it didn't phase him. But for some reason, the thought of killing this girl, who had already gone through so much, was unappealing to Voldemort.

However, Voldemort was quite unwilling to let Severus know that he was feeling... sympathetic towards the girl - Hermione. Luckily, the Dark Lord could practically feel the power swirling around her sweeping form.

Turning to Severus, Voldemort questioned, "Have you tested her power levels?" At Severus's confirming nod, he said, "Well?"

"She is, in fact, very powerful," Severus revealed. "Her power is only slightly below Harry's."

Although the information did not particularly surprise Voldemort, he was slightly taken aback by how well the situation had in fact played out for him. He still had Harry; he had gotten back two of his best Death Eaters from prison; he had acquired a new asset to his team, Hermione; and he had Dumbledore locked up. Things couldn't be better.

All he had to do now was decide what to do next.

-

**_Not the best chapter, and I'm sorry it's been so long._**

**_Please review._**


	14. Progression

**Shattered Surrender  
**_**by sick-atxxheart  
**_**Chapter Fourteen  
**

The nightmares finally showed up. Sirius was frankly surprised that it took so long. It was at least one day, maybe two, maybe even three since he had gotten out of Azkaban – Sirius was having trouble remembering much of everything. He preferred to forget. Two days without nightmares had been an immense blessing in itself, and Sirius only wished it could last.

Azkaban had been his worst adventure, the one that had gone so drastically wrong. Sirius wasn't quite sure exactly how much of his sanity he had retained; he was just glad that he could almost always keep track of the time, he could remember those around him, and he knew who he was. Those things were, for now, enough.

Sirius shuddered in his sleep, his mind flashing once again through the images that had haunted him for years. James' face, begging him, asking him _why_ he had betrayed them, _Why_ he had let Harry go to Azkaban- and Sirius pleaded, saying that he had been _so_ close, just down the hall, but he hadn't known- and he hadn't betrayed them, he _hadn't_-

James never believed him.

Unconsciously in his sleep, Sirius couldn't contain his cries. All these years had been built around nightmares- he had lived off of them, drank of them, breathed them, all unwillingly. And now, even after he was out of the horror that was Azkaban, they were still in his life.

Sirius was still screaming when Bella entered the room. She took one glance at him and sneered inwardly, a reaction left over from her previous self, the one before she had been thrown into Azkaban and had met Harry. This new self was different, a person she didn't quite understand. This new self was almost _kind_. Not quite, but as close as Bella would ever get.

She had given up on sleep after trying for only an hour. She knew what the problem was- she was afraid of sleeping, for the same reason that Sirius was now being tormented by dreams. She was afraid of her nightmares. She was afraid of remembering her past.

Bella let the sneer fall from her face and she sighed. It wasn't fair to let Sirius suffer. As much as she _hated_ her cousin, as much as she had wanted him dead and been glad that his name had been burned off the family tree, she was glad to see him now. He _understood_. He had lived through what she had. Knowing that was enough to get over her hatred, at least for now.

"Sirius?" Bella whispered, moving over to her cousin and gently shaking his shoulder, eventually moving to rougher shakes when he didn't respond. His face was pained, and she could hear him whispering apologies to the darkness through his dream. Bella wondered if he was still dreaming about betrayal.

It took entirely too long, in Bella's opinion, for Sirius to finally wake. When he did, his eyes were dazed and his face was sad. She noticed exactly how much he had aged during his time in Azkaban, and Bella wondered if people thought the same way about her. That depressed her- Bella had never been one to avoid getting dirty, but she certainly had had her beauty and was quite proud of it. The idea that her beauty, her startlingly dark, enchanting looks, could be gone was painful to her.

Sirius sat up in bed. "I had hoped they would stop," he sighed, running his scarred hand over his face and looking at her expectantly.

Bella nodded. "Me too." They both knew that it would be too good to be true if the nightmares had just stopped. They had both suffered too much to suddenly be released with nothing other than the memory of pain.

The silence between them was filled with things left unsaid, unaddressed tension, and leftover hatred, and it was coated with the sheer feeling of exhaustion that swept over both of them.

Eventually Sirius looked up at her. "Are you alright?" He asked, his question hesitant. Bella stared back at him, unsure of how to answer. Was she alright?

The truth was, Bella didn't know. And she knew that Sirius felt the same way.

Neither of them wanted to admit the fact that they might have left their minds back at Azkaban.

* * *

Hermione woke in a strange, dark room, with menacingly shadowed walls and no windows. There were screams echoing around her, and Hermione tried to figure out where the screams were coming from. With a start, she realized she had been the one screaming. Her dreams had been haunting: she remembered being tortured, and she remembered being _afraid. _It didn't make sense that she would now be in an actual bed, seemingly safe.

The last few days had been a complete blur of both fear and pain, and Hermione wished she could forget them. No matter how hard she tried, however, she couldn't. All she wanted was to collapse and fall asleep forever. If only the _nightmares_ wouldn't make her fear even sleeping.

The door burst open in the dark, and Hermione cried out and moved quickly to the furthest corner of the bed. She didn't recognize the woman in the doorway, but for some reason she wasn't afraid of her. None of this makes sense_,_ Hermione thought to herself. Her analytical mind searched for a reason, for an explanation that would fit, but there was none.

"Hermione?" The woman said quietly, barely startling the shadows that decorated the room. She seemed to blend perfectly into the darkness. "Are you okay? I heard screaming..."

"U-um, b-bad dream," Hermione whispered. The woman's voice sounded friendly enough, but she was still scared. "I-I'm sorry-"

The woman simply nodded off the apology and took a seat on the small chair on the other side of the room. The room was silent until Hermione worked up the courage to speak. "I'm sorry, but w-who are you?"

"I'm Bella," the woman said. "Do you know where you are?" Hermione shook her head quickly, and Bella continued. "You're somewhere safe, first of all. Do you remember anything that happened yesterday? About how you came to be here?"

Hermione was silent for a long minute, and Bella tried to give her a hint. "A man with blue eyes?"

Even in the dark, Bella could see Hermione's eyes spark with recognition of what she had said. She watched the little girl shudder, and she winced. Bella wasn't sure if her reaction had been out of distaste or out of sympathy- she seemed to be losing all control of her emotions lately. It seemed to be her night for apprehending nightmares, anyway.

Silence reigned for a few seconds more, before Hermione tentatively said, "Is- is he here?"

Bella shook her head quickly. "He's locked up, Hermione. He won't hurt you anymore, I promise."

* * *

Severus walked purposely down the hall, his trademark black robes swirling behind him. It was astonishingly early, but he had always been a morning person. Severus had already checked on Harry and Sirius, and was off to make sure Bella and Hermione were fine. It was strange for him to feel so protective and caring about four people he didn't really know to any great extent. But what had gone on last night had seemed to draw them all closer, pitted them all against a common goal.

Severus opened the door quietly and was faced with a sight that shocked him. Hermione was still sleeping, but that wasn't the shocking part. What was astounding was the fact that Bella was asleep in a chair that had been placed next to the girl's bed, as if she had been comforting her. The change in Bella was quite frankly astounding to Severus; he didn't understand exactly what had made her so motherly, or caring, or even _lifelike_. Everything about her was different now, and it was just perplexing in a way that made Severus' head hurt.

Swallowing a sigh, Severus woke Bella quickly. "What happened?" he inquired shortly, nodding to Hermione and taking in Bella's disheveled and exhausted look.

"She had a nightmare," Bella responded quietly. "Screaming."

Severus nodded grimly. "Well, aren't we a fascinating group." The sarcasm in his voice was heavy, and his disgust was also made clear.

Severus mindlessly checked Hermione's forehead for any fever and asked Bella a few questions about her nightmares. Inwardly, his mind was racing, wondering exactly how five people who suffered from nightmares could survive in the same house. He didn't know if Voldemort had nightmares, and certainly wasn't about to ask.

The reasons for Sirius' and Bella's nightmares were obvious, as was Harry's- Azkaban had left them reeling, and appropriately so. Hermione was still in shock from the events of the previous day. And Sirius had a past that haunted him and a future that hadn't looked particularly promising up until the previous few days. It was certainly an interesting dynamic, having a group with so many different types of people with the same types of stories.

Severus informed Bella that breakfast was ready, and was waiting for them on the table. The servants had already made it for them, and she had better wake Hermione up unless she wanted to eat a cold breakfast.

Turning on his heel, Severus strode out of the room to make sure Harry was awake. He had never truly expected to have the role of caretaker, but now that it had been thrust upon him, he found he didn't really mind it.

* * *

Voldemort woke in his pitch-black room, the black hangings that covered the walls, window, and door concealing any light and making the perfect sleeping atmosphere. As soon as he woke, Voldemort remembered what had happened the day before, and couldn't resist sitting in bed for a few moments and gloating about his success. He had _captured Dumbledore._ What he had dreamed of doing for years had now finally been accomplished, and the joy and accomplishment he felt was even better than what he had expected.

Finally willing his body to move, Voldemort rose and began pacing, considering throwing open the curtain to look outside. It would be a fake image, of course; his private quarters were in the dungeons. He preferred to be away from everything, from the outside world, and being beneath the ground had always been a type of escape for him.

The question that was probing his mind was exactly what he should do with Dumbledore, who was being detained in his cell by the highest wards that Voldemort could think of. His first reaction was to say that he wanted the old man tortured, and given a slow and hopefully painful death, one that he truly wished he could administer himself. But his second instinct- the one that he seemed to be relying on more lately- was telling him that torturing Dumbledore when he had shown Harry and Hermione that such violence was inappropriate would make him a hypocrite.

Voldemort never really cared about labels, or names that were placed upon him by lesser beings. The monikers _You-Know-Who_ and _He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named_ had always amused him greatly, knowing that the little witches and wizards of the world were _afraid_ of him, afraid to even speak his name. Knowing that fact had always brought him a sort of sick pleasure.

But being a hypocrite- Voldemort wasn't exactly sure how he felt about that. He didn't doubt- in fact, he knew- that he had gone back on his word before, and lied, and cheated, and done the exact opposite of what he had said he would. But now-

Voldemort cursed himself for choosing to take part in the ceremony and be Harry's mentor. It had changed him more than he liked, more than he wanted. He seemed to have a _conscience _now! Was it because he had someone to care for, someone he had to be a role model for? It made no sense to Voldemort, and he let out a string of expletives as he realized exactly what he had been thinking. He had been feeling bad about lying, and cheating, and doing whatever he needed to do to get to the top. And now! Was he going to let Dumbledore go, simply because he had unfortunately developed a conscience? The man knew too much. It wasn't even an option.

Voldemort nodded absentmindedly to himself, pleased with his decision to not do what he had never planned to do. Even to consider it had been foolish, that much was for sure.

Voldemort sighed to himself. He was surely losing it. Everything was happening at such a rapid pace that even his highly analytical, if mildly unreasonable mind couldn't handle it. The addition of Harry and the girl- what was her name?- along with Sirius' and Bella's return made everything all the more important, and it made each decision Voldemort made so much more important.

Finally giving up on thinking, Voldemort changed into his robes and opened the door to exit his chambers rather violently, knowing that Peter would be waiting outside the doorway, hoping to be able to assist his Master. Voldemort was pleased when the slamming door successfully hit Peter in the head, sending him scattering back a few feet. The man, if he could even be called that, was a waste of magic.

Voldemort ate sullenly by himself, absentmindedly reading _The Daily Prophet_. There was a small blurb on the Muggle girl still being missing, but he paid it no mind. The Muggle police wouldn't find her here, even with the amount of confidence they had in themselves.

When he was done, Voldemort considered for a moment what to do next and eventually decided he needed to consult the three people who were currently the most important. Brushing the mark on his arm lightly, Voldemort hoped that the other Death Eaters would realize the call wasn't strong enough for them to come running to his side; it was only intended for the three who were on this side of headquarters. It wouldn't do to have any of his idiotic men stumbling in on a conversation that was not meant for their ears.

It took longer for them to arrive than the Dark Lord would have liked, but he attempted to still his patience by remembering that there were two small children who most likely didn't want to be left alone. Voldemort was still seated when Sirius, Bella, and Severus all lined up before him. Surprisingly, their masks were not on, and Voldemort wondered at their insolence.

They all bowed slightly, their faces down, but Voldemort could still see how exhausted they all were.

He startled them all with his statement. "I am looking," he said, letting his voice lapse into a lazy drawl, "for suggestions on exactly how we should handle a certain Albus Dumbledore."

All three were silent for a few moments, before Bella spoke. "I guess we're voting against torturing and maiming, then? My Lord?"

Voldemort could see the corners of Sirius' mouth swing up into a smirk, and then quickly disappear. "I'm looking for a slightly more creative punishment."

Unfortunately, their suggestions were quite uncreative, at least in Voldemort's eyes. They suggested everything from just a direct killing to putting him under the Imperius spell and taking over the Ministry. Voldemort toyed with the idea of breaking the Ministry from within for awhile, but eventually decided that it wouldn't do any good to do so with someone as powerful and influential as Albus Dumbledore- especially since he appeared on the surface to be so dedicated to the Light. Someone would definitely notice a change in his actions and viewpoints. Additionally, Voldemort had always fantasized slightly about just overthrowing the Ministry by sheer force. A foolish dream, perhaps, but a vision nonetheless.

It was Sirius' final suggestion that caught Voldemort's attention. "Why don't you just put him in Azkaban?" His speech lacked the reverence that Voldemort expected from all of his minions, but the suggestion was a good one and Voldemort decided to be charitable. Besides, he had already given these three so much leniency that a little more couldn't hurt.

Putting Dumbledore in Azkaban. What an _interesting_ idea- fascinating, in fact. Although Voldemort himself had never experienced Azkaban, he knew from the experiences of others that it was punishment in itself. Bella and Sirius were testaments to that fact, along with Harry. Perhaps it would be appropriate to give Dumbledore exactly what he had himself been doling out. Voldemort had always appreciated a subtle dose of irony.

Voldemort finally nodded, noting that the three in front of him were waiting with their breaths held in either fear or anticipation. Apparently, he had taken longer to decide than he had thought.

"That seems appropriate," he said, smirking at the vision of Dumbledore rotting in Azkaban until he died. "Now, all we must do is figure out exactly how to convince the world he deserves to be there."

* * *

In the end, it turned out to be a harder decision than Voldemort had anticipated. There were so many different options- from making Dumbledore look like a well-known criminal and sending him to jail to staging an elaborate skit that would make the world believe Dumbledore was guilty. There were so many facts to consider, and so many different ways that each decision could take a wrong turn.

Eventually, Voldemort decided to set Dumbledore up in a skit, under the Imperius curse, that would make him a criminal under the law. If everyone was unwilling to send him to jail, Voldemort would also curse the two Aurors to do what he bid; they could then ensure that Dumbledore would be sent to Azkaban. It was not a foolproof plan, but Voldemort was confident it would work.

The only thing left to do once he had decided on his plan was to figure out exactly what the skit would be. Wizarding law was so unclear that anything from waving your wand incorrectly to killing an innocent person was a crime.

Surprisingly, it was Bella's idea to use Hermione as the prop, guaranteed that she wouldn't get hurt. Voldemort agreed immediately that it was the best idea.

Now the only thing left to do was convince Hermione to help.

* * *

Hermione lie wide awake on her bed, the room only slightly brightened by the light coming in from the hallway. She was confused. Bella had been nice, as had the other man who appeared to be taking care of her. She couldn't quite remember his name, but she knew it had an "s" and a "v" in it, and it sounded old-fashioned.

For the life of her, Hermione couldn't figure out where she was. There weren't any windows in her room, and she remembered what had happened the day before clearly. It terrified her, and made her not trust the place.

She had waited what seemed to be forever for someone to return to get her. The man had run out of her room in a hurry with a promise to return soon, but he hadn't, and neither had Bella. Hermione was growing impatient, and even with as scared as she was, her curiosity overcame her fear.

Hermione slipped out of her bed silently, her feet not making any noise on the floor. She was dressed in a plain T-shirt and black sweatpants, neither of which were hers and all of which fit strangely. The room was small, and Hermione was grateful when she discovered that the door didn't squeak.

Slipping out of the room, Hermione padded down the dim hallway, carefully checking the doors as she went along. Most of them were locked, until she found one four doors down on the left side that was unlocked; there was even light coming from under the door. There was obviously someone inside.

Hermione attempted to still her fear of who was behind the door. She kenw she had to find out, for her curiosity wouldn't let it be any other way; but she couldn't help wondering if the mean blue-eyed man was there. Bella had promised he wouldn't hurt her anymore, but she hadn't said anything about what would happen if Hermione went looking for trouble.

Taking a deep breath and attempting to swallow her fear, Hermione knocked once and then pushed the door open.

She was greeted with the sight of a young, thin boy with messy black hair, who was staring back at her with greener-than-green eyes.

_**Reviews, please :)**_


	15. Meeting

**Shattered Surrender  
**_by sick-atxxheart  
_Chapter Fifteen

Hermione immediately scrambled backward, startled by the piercing green eyes that were staring so innocently back at her. She hid behind the wall just outside the door, taking a deep breath and attempting to steady her breathing. Hermione knew it was foolish to be so afraid of someone who was at least two times smaller than her.

Taking another deep breath, Hermione stuck her head around the doorframe cautiously. The scene she was greeted with was not that much different than the original one, but slightly more disturbing. The boy was huddled in the corner of his bed, his blanket pulled up around him with only his green eyes visible.

Hermione had never had a lot of friends, but her parents had always told her that she was very perceptive and could figure out anything if she wanted to. Hermione felt a pull in her heart as she realized that she might never be reunited with her parents, but she pushed it back down quickly, returning to the problem at hand. She could almost sense the fear in the boy's eyes, and she wondered if he had gone through anything like she had.

Hermione took a tentative step into the room, trying to make her face look as pleasant as possible. "Hi," she said softly, her voice coming out softer than she had wanted it to. "I'm Hermione."

Still the boy didn't move, and Hermione couldn't help but being confused. She was being nice to him- she was smiling, and she hadn't done anything to hurt him. There was no reason for him to be afraid of her. What was his problem?

Hermione tried again. "Hi," she repeated. "What's your name?" She took another cautious step inside the room, subconsciously moving away from the door. She didn't want Bella to catch her outside her room and be mad at her; for that matter, she didn't really want to see any of the other adults who had been in the room during what she had come to call "The Incident."

The silence in the room was almost tangible and Hermione was just starting to feel immensely awkward when the boy finally spoke. His words were barely audible, and Hermione almost didn't catch them.

"My name's Harry," he said, his mouth hidden behind the blanket. Hermione wondered inwardly how old he was.

Hermione wasn't quite sure how to respond to his comment, because all he had done was introduce himself. It didn't seem appropriate to ask him how he was, or to talk about the weather. Hermione carefully walked to the other side of the room to grab a chair similar to the one that was in her room. She carried it over to a few feet beside Harry's bed. Hermione waited for Harry's nod before sitting down, almost as if asking his permission. Hermione couldn't shake the feeling that she really didn't want to hurt or scare Harry; it was almost as if he was fragile, and could break at any moment. She wondered if she looked the same way, and hoped not.

The room was still engulfed in silence, and Hermione could tell that Harry wasn't going to take the initiative and start a conversation. It was going to have to be her, and Hermione took a few more minutes of the silence to try and puzzle out a good icebreaker that she could use to get him talking. It didn't seem likely that the boy would suddenly start being her best friend, but Hermione wanted to know someone her own age in this strange place. She had never been an immensely social creature, but she had never craved to be alone, either.

Hermione finally sighed and said the simplest thing she could think of. "Where are we?" She asked quietly, remembering just in time to keep her voice pleasant and almost bored.

Despite Hermione's best efforts, Harry obviously wasn't going to speak again. He just looked at her over the blanket that he was holding across his face, looking startlingly small and timid. Hermione tried a few more times to get him to share any bit of information with her- she even went so far as to ramble on about her own life- but nothing worked.

Finally, Hermione stood up and threw her hands into the air. "Well, obviously you're not going to do any of the talking," she snapped, forgetting that she was trying to soothe the boy, not scare him. "What, do you not talk? I know you do, you said your name already."

It only took Harry a few seconds to respond this time. "I-I'm s-sorry!" He stuttered, shrinking further behind his blanket, something Hermione hadn't thought was possible. "D-Don't b-be m-ma-mad-"

Hermione's eyes softened, as if she suddenly understood. "What, do you think I'm going to hurt you?" Harry's silence confirmed her guess, and she continued.

"I'm not going to hurt you," she promised. "I really just want to be your friend."

Harry looked confused. "My friend?" he asked quietly, looking startled that he had spoken. "W-What's that?"

Hermione hid her surprise well. "What's a friend?" She questioned. "Um… a friend is someone you have fun with, that you, um, talk to and play with and… stuff," she finished lamely. If she was being honest with herself, Hermione had never had that many friends; she had always been to enveloped in books and knowledge to actually have the time or desire to actually play with someone her own age. But now, Hermione really wanted a friend. She wanted someone to be able to understand what she was going through, and Harry seemed like a perfect option.

"I-I've never had a friend before," Harry said, his green eyes looking puzzled but almost hopeful. Hermione wondered how in the world he could have never had at least one friend, if not even an imaginary one. She had had an imaginary friend named Puddles when she was younger, and he had been her best friend for years.

"I'll be your friend," Hermione said. "I'm not going to hurt you." She felt it appropriate to reassure him again, simply because his fear appeared to be his problem. Hermione wondered exactly what he was afraid of, and then simply assumed it was just the scary, unfamiliar place that they were in. She was frightened too, but didn't deem it prudent to show it.

Harry simply nodded, and the room lapsed into silence again. Inwardly, Hermione sighed exasperatedly and then decided to try her question again. "Since I'm your friend, Harry," she began, "Do you know where we are?"

Harry actually responded this time, and Hermione couldn't help but being pleased at her success in getting him to trust her. She was apparently more intuitive than she had thought.

"I-I'm not exactly sure," he said softly. "Some type of dungeon, I think. But we're not prisoners- at least I don't think." He sounded unsure, but Hermione agreed with what he had said.

"How many people are there?" She asked. She only clearly remembered Bella and the blue-eyed man, who Hermione didn't particularly want to think about; but she remembered there being other people in the room during The Incident, and she assumed that Harry knew who they were.

"Well, there's Bella," Harry said. "And there's Siri and Sev, and then, um… Veldemord. Or something."

"Veldemord?" Hermione asked. "That's a strange name."

Harry looked sheepish. "I may have gotten it wrong. It's a weird name… But he's the guy with the really, really white face."

"And red eyes?" Hermione questioned, knowing now who Harry was talking about. She remembered him being slightly arrogant, but he had been nice to her, so he couldn't be all that bad.

Hermione leaned back in her chair, feeling slightly more comfortable now that she at least knew who she was dealing with. "What do they want with us?" She asked, using 'us' because it was obvious that she and Harry had to be connected in some way.

Harry shook his head. "I really don't know. Apparently I'm a… Protector… or something. Saving the world, I guess." He sounded nonchalant, but Hermione could see the fear and confusion spike in his eyes again as he told her about it.

"What about me, then?" Hermione asked, almost afraid of the answer. But Harry simply shook his head.

"You were supposed to be… a threat, I think," he said slowly. "Or a bribe. The old guy- Dumledoor or something-"

"Don't talk about him," Hermione interrupted, without meaning to. She didn't want to hear about the mean man with the blue eyes. She looked up at Harry, who was watching her curiously.

"I'm sorry," he said, looking sincere. He had put down the blanket so that it was only over his legs, and through his T-shirt Hermione could see exactly how thin he was. He looked malnourished, in fact, and Hermione wondered exactly what had happened to him. She had learned enough by that point to know that it would not bode well to ask him, but she resolutely vowed that she would find out.

They continued in easy conversation for a few more minutes until they ran out of things to talk about, without addressing either of the subjects that both of them wished to avoid. It was just in the moment that they both fell silent when Severus entered the room.

He stopped abruptly, looking at the two children sitting before him who had apparently been talking animatedly the moment before. Severus was just returning from the planning session with Voldemort and the others, and was going to check on the two children before returning to his quarters for a much-needed tea break.

Severus noticed immediately that Hermione looked terrified, undoubtedly of being caught outside her room, and he tried to wipe the shocked look off his face. Severus also saw that Harry almost looked relaxed, even though he too appeared to be slightly anxious.

"Hello," Severus said calmly. "I see you two have met." He wasn't quite sure exactly how to deal with the situation at hand; he had no idea if the Dark Lord had wanted Harry and Hermione to meet, and if he did under what circumstances it was supposed to happen. This had been sprung on him quite unexpectedly.

Both Harry and Hermione looked sheepish as they nodded at his statement. Hermione looked as if she wanted to speak, and Severus could just tell that she was about to burst into some form of sincere apology that he really did not have the patience to listen to. Sighing, he decided to take the easiest route. "I'm sorry to break up your little chat," he said, "But Hermione really needs to return to her room."

The girl immediately shot up from her seat next to Harry's bed, looked at him apologetically, and exited the room, walking as far away from Severus as possible. She waved goodbye to Harry as she went, and Severus watched as Harry returned the gesture.

Severus was silent for almost an entire minute before he fell into his caretaker duties, checking Harry's temperature and giving him a potion loaded with all the essential nutrients that Harry needed to get stronger and healthier from where he was. The whole time, Harry was silent, almost contemplative.

"Are you feeling well, Harry?" Severus finally asked, taking a step back from his bed to look at the child. Harry nodded.

"I'm fine," he said, looking puzzled. After a moment, he spoke again. "You're not mad at Hermione, are you?"

Severus quickly shook his head, eager to appease Harry's worry. "No, I'm not, Harry," he said. "Why would you ask that?"

"Because she's my friend," Harry said, still looking slightly confused. Severus could see the sleepiness that was now showing in his eyes. "I don't want you to be angry with her," He finished, yawning through his words.

"Well, everything is fine," Severus reassured him, fixing his bed and instructing Harry to go to sleep. "Don't worry."

It only took minutes for Harry to fall asleep, as he was still recovering from his ordeal. Severus shut off the light and exited the room, his mind turning at a million miles a minute, wondering exactly how to tell Voldemort about this new development. Severus couldn't begin to guess how the man would react, as his moods and actions had been so uncharacteristic lately. Voldemort appeared to have a sort of a soft spot for Harry, probably having something to do with the mentor ritual that had been performed; but his aversion to Muggleborns was obvious, and whether he would accept Harry being friends with one was questionable.

However, Severus could also see how foolish it would be to take Harry's friend away from him. The boy had appeared to be at least content when he had been talking to Hermione. Maybe Harry needed a friend- he was going to have to save the world, after all.

* * *

Voldemort paced through this quarters, a rather sinister smile on his face. Pettigrew was standing in front of him, quivering in fear, although Voldemort hadn't given him any reason to be afraid; the pathetic man seemed to always be shaking. Voldemort had considered long ago that he may have some type of problem, but that had never stopped him from teasing the man mercilessly about it. It wouldn't do to get soft on his servant, who was bound almost only by his own fear.

Things had gone exactly the way he had wanted them to, and Voldemort was personally unbelievably excited to put their plan for Dumbledore into action. The man was such a foolish idiot that the Dark Lord couldn't help but wonder exactly how he had come to be so respected and revered for his intelligence. Maybe he was smart fact-wise, but Dumbledore certainly appeared to be lacking in the common sense department.

Voldemort sent Pettigrew away and had just decided that he would have to take some sort of rest before he commenced any further planning when there was a loud rap on the door. Cursing under his breath, hoping inwardly that it was Pettigrew so that he could beat some sense into the man, Voldemort opened the door to find Bella there, looking both apologetic but determined.

Sneering at her, Voldemort spoke. "What do you want, Bella?" He wondered sometimes if she took her place as one of his top Death Eaters for granted.

"I have a problem with the plan." Her words were bold, and she didn't appear to be afraid. Voldemort rolled his eyes and wandered back into the darkened sitting room, taking his place in the throne-like chair by the fire.

"Well?" he said, his patience wearing thin. "What is it?"

"I-" Bellatrix began, her black eyes shadowed. "I d-don't think-"

She stuttered for a few moments more before Voldemort was finally fed up. "Bellatrix!" He roared, rolling his eyes. "I don't have the time or the patience to deal with your confusion! Tell me what it is, or get out!"

Bella let out a string of expletives that made the Dark Lord grin inwardly. He had always appreciated a well-placed curse word. "I'm not used to feeling like this," she said, looking up at Voldemort, the look in her eyes almost pleading. "I can't handle it."

Voldemort concealed his eye roll this time, interested by what Bella was saying. "Go on," he said.

"I feel- I feel- protective!" Bella exclaimed, looking almost ashamed of her revelation. "And I can't handle it. I hate it. I don't like caring about people!" She looked flustered, and Voldemort had come to know over the years that the look in her eyes meant trouble.

"About Harry, I presume?" Voldemort questioned, keeping his voice controlled.

Bella nodded, and then exclaimed again, "Yes, of course about Harry! But about Hermione too!"

"Hermione?" Voldemort asked, not sure who she was talking about.

"The girl! The Muggleborn girl. I comforted her last night when she was having a nightmare. What is wrong with me?"

Voldemort had no answer. He sighed. "You know I have no idea, Bellatrix," he said. "I'm not a man who understands feelings, for Merlin's sake!"

Bella stood in silence for a long moment before nodding, her shoulders slumping as if she accepted his words. "I know," she said. "I just don't understand, and I don't like feeling this way..."

Voldemort sighed again. "Do you have a real problem with the plan?" He wanted to change the subject away from feelings as quickly as possible. Voldemort had just begun to see how foolish it was to attach himself to Harry in the way of a mentor, because it meant that he actually cared about the boy. Voldemort didn't despite feelings; rather, he feared them. They were volatile and uncertain, and the Dark Lord didn't care to deal with anything that he couldn't control.

Bella sighed too. "It's back to this protective thing again," she said, almost as if apologizing. "I- I don't want to put either of them in danger."

Voldemort immediately knew that she was referring to Harry and Hermione. His facial expression shifted until it settled into one of displeasure, and he said, "Really. So what do you suggest we do instead?" His words were laced with disapproval, and he could see Bella's visible wince. The Dark Lord wasn't really pleased with the idea of changing the plan that they had all agreed upon. Placing the Imperius Curse on Dumbledore and forcing him to attack a protected Hermione seemed like the perfect plan. Dumbledore would be seen as a monster in the Wizarding World, and Hermione wouldn't feel anything other than a mild sensation of the magic protecting her. It seemed ideal for everyone, but the three Death Eaters had expressed their concern about convincing Hermione to help. Bella knew how terrified Hermione was of him.

"I- I propose using the Polyjuice Potion," Bella said hopefully. "I- I'll go in Hermione's place."

The plans had finally been worked out at least partially in Bella's favor when another knock came at the door. Voldemort rose from his chair and Bella shrunk back in hers, wondering what her instructions would be. Voldemort opened the door with a bang, appropriately menacing, to see Severus standing in the doorway, looking amused.

"Merlin!" Voldemort exclaimed angrily. "What is it, Intrude-Upon-My-Personal-Space Day? I should punish the both of you!"

Bella shrunk back even further in her seat, but Severus just ignored Voldemort's words and spoke. "Harry and Hermione have met." He spoke flatly, putting no emotion into his words, as if he was unsure what his reaction to his own statement should be.

"_What_?" Voldemort exclaimed. "How did this happen, Severus? You know that I didn't want them to even know the other existed!"

"They were locked in their rooms!" Severus shot back at him. "I have no idea how in the world Hermione even got out of her room and into Harry's! Both were locked, I swear, my Lord. I checked them myself."

Voldemort let the look on his face slide off as he considered what Severus had just revealed to him. "Accidental magic?" He questioned.

Severus hesitated. "I... I don't think she knew that she did anything."

Voldemort smirked. "So we have a Protector," he said softly, "and a child who has magic we don't even know about."

"But she's Muggleborn," Bella pointed out, forgetting her feelings for the child and falling back on her old prejudices.

"Yes," Voldemort said. "But I have a feeling that this Muggleborn may be more useful than we anticipate."

Bella shivered. She couldn't shake her feeling that Voldemort had plans, and that she would _not_ like them.

* * *

**Can we please, please, please try for thirty reviews for this chapter? Thanks everyone! Let me know what you think :)**


	16. Manipulation

_**Shattered Surrender**_  
_by sick-atxxheart_  
Chapter Sixteen

_I apologize sincerely for the lack of updates._

* * *

Hermione was sitting on her bed in her room when Bella entered, startling her. Hermione had just startled to smile at the woman when she noticed the tall, pale man who had followed her into the room. She recognized him from The Incident, and remembered what Harry had told her about him.

Hermione shrunk back on her bed instinctively, but held her head high in order to appear confident. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed as Bella shot her an approving look, one that almost said _Good job. Be strong_. Hermione wasn't exactly sure what she had to be afraid of, but just the man's red eyes were enough to scare her.

Voldemort wasn't exactly sure how to relate to the girl who was sitting in front of him. He had instructed Bella to take him to her in order to introduce himself, and the Dark Lord wanted to get a grasp of exactly what he was dealing with. Was the girl timid and shy, meaning she would be unwilling to use her powers? Or was she daring and confident, as he hoped she would be- someone willing to learn and follow instructions, someone that Bella could hopefully mentor into a successful witch?

He had his answer in a matter of minutes.

"Hello," Voldemort said politely, already feeling awkward. He _hated_ dealing with children, but he had learned enough in the past day to know that scaring them when you were hoping they would cooperate was not the best way to go. Being _nice_ seemed to be the way to get them to cooperate the best, despite how repulsive that option was.

"Hello," the girl said, repeating after him. She appeared to be confident enough, at least in that moment.

"Do you know who I am?" Voldemort questioned, making sure to look at her directly.

The girl looked confused for a moment before answering. "Veldemord?" She asked, looking up at him hopefully, her face almost nervous.

"What?" Voldemort yelped, wincing as he realized that yelping was not as menacing as he would like to appear. "I can assure you that my name is most _certainly_ not Veldemord, or whatever atrocity you just called me!"

The girl shrunk back, looking at him through her too-long bangs. "I'm really very sorry, sir. That's just what Harry told me your name was," she said honestly, still appearing confident even through her apparent fear. Her emotions were rather confusing, Voldemort noticed; he was usually very talented at reading people, but her feelings were a mystery to him. He would have to rely only on her body language and words, this time, unless he decided to look at her thoughts to prove her feelings.

Voldemort sighed, allowing his anger to cool. He knew he would regret it later if he killed this powerful child simply because she had annihilated the pronunciation of his name. Besides, Severus had expressed his belief that Harry and Hermione had become fast friends, and the Dark Lord knew that punishing this girl would hurt Harry. As much as he abhorred having such a feeling, Voldemort doubted that he _could_ even hurt the boy at this point. Undoubtedly it was the mentor bond kicking in, but the Dark Lord still couldn't deny the hold the spell had on him.

Finally speaking again, Voldemort said firmly, "It's Voldemort. Make sure you remember it."

The girl nodded, obviously relieved that he wasn't angry. "I'm Hermione," she said, hesitating for a moment before holding out her hand for him to shake. "It's nice to meet you." Her eyes met Voldemort's, and he was startled by the easy, confident manner she possessed. It was as if she wasn't afraid of him at all.

Voldemort stared at the girl's small hand for a full minute, contemplating exactly what her gesture meant, how he should respond to it, and whether or not it was appropriate to shake hands with a Muggleborn. He hadn't even come close to making a decision on how to react when Bella cleared her throat, startling him out of his thoughts.

"Ahem," Bella said, her eyes darting around the room, obviously trying to fill the awkward gap that Voldemort's pause had created. "Anyway, how are you feeling, Hermione?"

Hermione dropped her hand and broke her eyes away from Voldemort's, wondering exactly what his problem was. "I'm feeling fine, thank you." She really wanted to ask how Harry was, because she had been able to tell that he was sick when she had met him. But judging from the look on Bella's face, Hermione knew better than to speak.

The silence had just settled into something that was a few levels past uncomfortable when Voldemort spoke. "So you've met young Harry," he said, his voice careful. He didn't want to make another mistake like the one he had made by not shaking the girl's hand.

Hermione hung her head. "I really hadn't meant to intrude on anything, sir."

Voldemort was surprised by what he said next. "What did you think of him?"

Hermione looked up at him, almost as if searching for permission to answer his question. "Well… he was very afraid of me, at first. I had to make him believe that I didn't want to hurt him before he would even talk to me. Other than that, he just looks really small for his age."

Voldemort nodded, satisfied by her answer. "I take it that you have no idea why you are here, or what exactly is going on?" He asked, without really needing her response to know the answer to his question. Of course she wouldn't have any knowledge of the magical world, other than the bits and pieces she had glimpsed during her time with them. If Hermione was to be trained, and used as a potential weapon, then she would need to be educated on magical history, theory, and application. Voldemort sighed as he realized that Harry would practically be starting off at the very same spot.

The Dark Lord turned to go, not needing to speak to the girl anymore. Before he exited the door, he turned around and shot Hermione a cold glance, only to find her big brown eyes staring back at him innocently. Voldemort found her ease unsettling; he was used to people fearing him, and he disliked not being able to scare her into obedience. She seemed intelligent, and she was undoubtedly powerful. Perhaps only logic and reason would make her act in the manner Voldemort wanted her to.

Voldemort turned around again and exited, murmuring a few words loud enough for both Bella and Hermione to hear. "My little Mudblood," he said softly, not really meaning it as a criticism. He knew in his heart that what he associated with that word would soon be drastically changed.

* * *

Hermione's love of knowledge and books was revealed early on. When told that someone would be impersonating her, she demanded to know the entire extent of the plan, how the potion worked, and exactly what the outcome of the whole ordeal would be. After that episode, Severus was much more hesitant to reveal much of anything to her, because it then required dedicating a good half-hour to explaining the mechanics of magic and potion-making. Hermione had expressed an interest, however, in learning from him; and while Severus didn't like children much, an eager, intelligent one was always appreciated.

Voldemot's meeting with the girl, Hermione, the day before had puzzled him for hours after it was over. Voldemort had gone over every possible angle, and could not come up with an appropriate explanation for why she hadn't feared him, hadn't immediately bowed down and worshiped him when she had seen his power. In retrospect, Voldemort was glad she hadn't, because it meant she had a mind of her own; but to have a follower that was so independent, especially one so young, was strange.

Bella had informed him that Hermione had asked if she could return home to her parents. The answer, of course, had been no; she needed to stay. According to Bella's later reports, the girl had taken the news very well; she had just set her face, nodded, and asked some other question. Voldemort wondered if the girl had cried later, or if she was just really not that close to her parents. He had never been an expert on family relationships, after all.

According to Severus, Harry was progressing nicely. His body was healing, although he would still have nasty scars, and his state of mind seemed to also be improving. Harry knew that he was safe, and according to Severus, that was the most important thing. The absence of fear now accompanied the boy's demeanor, which was something everyone was greatful for. Hermione was a great comfort to him, and everyone could tell that they would be fast and perhaps forever friends.

Voldemort had toyed with the idea of waiting for two days until he put their plan for sending Dumbledore to Azkaban into action, but had eventually decided that having Dumbledore disappear for an extended period of time and then act illegally was less believable than if he suddenly did something out of character. Besides, Voldemort's excitement for the commencement of the plan was too much to put off for very long. He had even dressed the part that morning, _just in case_ he had to make an appearance.

It was early in the morning when Voldemort strode into the chambers of the dungeons that had been turned into a prison. Dumbledore was sleeping on his flat, thin cot, looking pitiful and old. For a moment, Voldemort hesitated, noticing that the man was sleeping; he then threw away those emotions and bellowed, "Time to wake up, your highness!" The laugh that followed was loud enough to wake the old man up, if Voldemort's words already hadn't. Voldemort always loved mockery, especially in regards to his enemies.

Dumbledore's blue eyes flew open with a start, but it took him a few moments to sit up and meet Voldemort's eyes. He still had a subtle defiance behind those sparkling orbs; however, the look of defeat was also mingled in with them. "What is it, Tom?" He said quietly.

Voldemort winced at the name "Tom"; he still hated being called that. "It's retribution day!" He exclaimed. "I bet you can figure out what that means, can't you, Albus?"

Fear glazed over Dumbledore's eyes for a moment, before they returned back to the overpowering arrogance that usually occupied them. "You can't hurt me," he said softly, grinning.

Voldemort turned away. "Oh, we shall see," he said over his shoulder as he walked out the door. "I think you will find your new position to be quite… ironic."

* * *

Only after hearing the entire explanation would Hermione give up a strand of her hair to allow Severus to properly make the Polyjuice Potion. Once he left, she looked up at Bellatrix inquisitively and said, "Why are you impersonating me? Why aren't I just going to be me?"

It was an innocent question, but it forced Bella to have to express her emotions. "I- I don't want you to get hurt," Bella said honestly, trying very hard not to look away from the child's big brown eyes.

"But it's okay if you get hurt?" Hermione responded with another question, one that startled Bella even more.

"I guess it is," she said honestly. "I have to say that I am used to it. You are a child- you should not have to get used to being injured." Bella almost winced as she said those words, because they seemed so uncharacteristic coming from her. Her statement was basically the polar opposite of what she had been taught as a child, and additionally the opposite from Dumbledore's viewpoint regarding Harry. Children were not meant to be injured, Bella thought to herself firmly, even if I did used to believe something different.

Hermione didn't respond to Bella's statement, but the older woman could practically see her mind whirring in an attempt to make sense of Bella's words.

When Severus finally brought in the potion, Voldemort, Sirius, Bella, Severus, Harry, and Hermione all gathered in Harry's room to watch. While the four adults had seen the Polyjuice Potion take affect many times, and had in fact all experienced it themselves, the two children were completely new to the experience. Severus and Sirius were standing ready to console them in the case that they became frightened.

Bella held the small bottle in her hand and looked at Voldemort for permission. He nodded and spoke. "Go on, Bellatrix," almost as if knowing that those three words could provide the most reassurance for her.

Bella downed the contents of the bottle in one long sip, breathing heavily after she swallowed the last of it. Almost immediately her face began to change, her bones moving around and her body size shrinking. In under a minute she was the exact replica of Hermione Granger, except in a much bigger set of robes.

Hermione cried out quietly when Bella turned to face her, but then just stared curiously. It was strange feeling to see yourself, except that it was really not you. Harry, meanwhile, also stared curiously. His demeanor was very calm most of the time; now, however, he seemed slightly unnerved at the change in Bella, who was so precious to him. "Will you be all right, Bella?" he whispered softly, almost inaudibly.

Bella turned back to him. "I'll be fine, baby," she said, startled slightly by her much younger voice. She stared down at her hands and had to hide her grin. It felt good to be a child again – almost as if all the pain and suffering of her adult life had been washed away. Additionally, she felt pretty again. Hermione could not really be considered beautiful, but she was child-pretty, and Bella enjoyed having good looks again, even if they were not really hers.

Bella quickly waved her wand and transfigured her robe into Muggle clothes that fit her body. Just from that small bit of magic she could feel strength drain out of her, and inwardly she cursed Azkaban and everyone who had put her there. Severus seemed to notice the change in her face, and he shook his head slightly, almost as if implying that she should have let him do the transfiguration for her. She ignored his silent comment, slightly annoyed by it but knowing that it was well-intentioned.

"You know the plan, I presume?" Voldemort confirmed. Bellatrix nodded sharply, and Voldemort grinned in response and exited the room. A few seconds later, he returned, two masked Death Eaters leading a struggling Albus Dumbledore.

"Are you ready, Dumbledore?" Voldemort said, circling around him like a cat. "Your punishment awaits you. Aren't you prepared? What do you mean you didn't do anything wrong? I assure you that you did. Now, look-" – he pointed to Bellatrix, or Hermione- "Your victim awaits."

Dumbledore continued to struggle through Voldemort's tirade, and the Dark Lord raised his wand, stared at the man with a glint in his red eyes, and said clearly, "Obliviate." Immediately the old man's blue eyes glazed over, and he stopped struggling. Voldemort then raised his wand again and said, "Imperio." Immediately the two Death Eaters let go of his arms and exited the room, leaving him standing upright, obviously waiting for a command. Voldemort smirked. Now Dumbledore would do whatever he wanted, but he also wouldn't remember the fact that he had been at the headquarters or that he had been cursed; he would just wake up from the spell knowing what he had done, and not knowing the reason for it.

Voldemort moved his gaze over the inhabitants of the room and finally stopped at Bellatrix. "Let's go," he said. Bellatrix nodded, following the man out the door, and nearly ran into him when he stopped suddenly. She quickly backed up and looked at him inquiringly.

Voldemort sighed. "I'm not rewarding your emotional connection to these children," he said warningly to Bellatrix, who stared back at him, confused. He then nodded to Severus, who handed Bellatrix another vial of potion; this time, the potion was electric purple. She stared down at the bottle, wondering what it was, until she saw Severus' handy little note scrawled along the bottle of the vial, on a small piece of magical tape: "Painless Spells." Her gasp was audible to those in the room; Bella knew both how rare and how difficult the potion was to make, and it was not something that was just given out freely. The potion made the user appear to be still suffering from the effects of a spell, as in Bella's body would still react the way it would normally under a spell; however, the person would feel no pain. Bellatrix would just have to supplement screams or cries, which she knew she could do quite convincingly.

Bellatrix looked at Voldemort and said in the most sincere way she could muster, "Thank you." She wondered for a moment whether it was necessary to bow down at his feet, as they used to have to; but circumstances had changed, and when Voldemort nodded once at her gratitude and then exited the room, she knew her words had been enough. Dumbledore followed Voldemort obediently. Bellatrix looked at Severus and Sirius for a moment of reassurance, smiled encouragingly and waved goodbye to Harry and Hermione, and then also left the room. Sirius followed; Severus was going to stay behind with Harry and Hermione, but could Apparate to the place where there plan was going to take place at a second's notice if necessary.

Voldemort had purposely leaked a false trail of information saying that he would be trying to break into the Ministry through Diagon Alley sometime in the morning. Doing this ensured two things; one, that there would be many Ministry employees and law enforcers patrolling the area; and two, because it was Diagon Alley, there would be many people around. It was necessary for not only the Ministry to have a reason to put Dumbledore in Azkaban, but also for the people themselves to turn against him. Torturing someone was not only a crime, but torturing a child was a crime against humanity.

Gaining access to Diagon Alley was easier than it should have been. Voldemort was carefully concealed, and actually remained quite a ways away from the scene of the upcoming action. Sirius' face had been transformed slightly and his long hair was magically hidden; it was unnecessary for him to have as convincing of a disguise as Bellatrix, as it had been long enough that most people would not recognize him; additionally, no one was really looking for him. Sirius remained close to Bellatrix and Dumbledore, who were approaching the center of the street.

Sirius knew that it would take careful timing to be able to grab Hermione and Apparate out of the scene, without anyone seeing them or really realizing what was happening. He was positive that it would work, but it would still take careful manipulation. Sirius had spent a good many hours thinking up possible scenarios and exactly how he would get Bella/Hermione out of them, and he felt confident in his ability to fulfill his role in their plan.

Bellatrix took her place, looking completely normal; just a young girl, most likely shopping with her parents, perhaps for school books or for her first wand. The scene changed, however, and many people around her cried out in shock when Dumbledore stormed towards her, yelling expletives, particularly those that were derogatory towards Muggleborns. From a distance, Voldemort smirked, enjoying having Dumbledore do exactly what people thought he would not normally do.

The screams had already attracted the attention of a few Aurors who were patrolling Diagon Alley. For a few moments, they watched as Dumbledore screamed at Hermione, who was just watching him helplessly, tears beginning to stream down her face as she seemed to become smaller and smaller with fear. Sirius, standing back with the crowd, could not help but admire Bella's acting skills. If he did not know, there was no way that he would have ever guessed that Hermione was not actually terrified for her life.

Next, as Sirius expected, came the Cruciatus. It had been decided by the group that only the cruelest of curses would work to cause absolute terror in the crowd. Dumbledore's cry of "Crucio!" left many people scrambling backward, whispering frantically, "But that's Dumbledore!" "Why is he hurting her?" and "Oh, stop!" Sirius smirked; the plan was working perfectly.

Bella's screams had just begun to resound through the crowd, ringing through the ears of everyone. Dumbledore stood tall, his persona menacing even with his half-moon glasses and long white beard. Bella was playing her part well, and her words of "No! I didn't do anything! P-please- stop-" could undoubtedly be heard even at the back of the crowd.

The Aurors were remarkably slow at constraining Dumbledore. When they did, he fought them, still yelling at Hermione and attempting to curse her again. Eventually, the man's wand was taken away, and only then did he stop kicking and only kept yelling.

The crowd immediately swarmed around Hermione, as if trying to protect her, but one Auror fought through them and grabbed her hand. He crouched down in front of her and said, "It's going to be okay. You hear me? You're fine. Calm down. Deep breaths now, that's the ticket, calm down, honey-"

Sirius saw it coming. They were going to take her away for questioning or healing or some other ridiculous remedy that was unnecessary in this situation. He fought his way through the crowd that had formed in front of him and reached the center just as Hermione was being led away by the Auror. Thinking fast, Sirius cried out, "That's my daughter!" He put as much emotion, anger, and angst into his words as possible, and it worked.

The Auror turned around, and the crowd nearest him turned to stare. "Hermione!" Sirius cried, holding out his arms to her. Hermione, still crying very convincingly, let go of the Auror's hand and ran into his arms. Sirius picked her up and stormed after the Auror, knowing that it was necessary to play his part before they disappeared. Hermione easily fit into the role of playing Sirius' terrified daughter.

"What in Merlin's name happened here?" He yelled, his voice turning into a very realistic shriek. "I let my daughter stay outside for one moment while I go inside a store to look at some books and wham- she's being cursed by some maniac? What kind of world is this? She's a little girl! Look at her! Does she look like a criminal to you? That man needs to be locked up, and I swear to you, it better happen, or I will be taking legal action-"

"Sir, please, please calm down-" The Auror attempted to say, finally cutting over Sirius' tirade. "I don't know what happened here. This man is obviously mentally unstable." The Auror muttered, "Always knew Dumbledore'd go nutty someday…" He turned around for a moment to look at the other Aurors leading Dumbledore away. "If you'd just come to the Ministry, sir, we can get this all straightened out-"

"I'm not coming down to the bloody Ministry, sir," Sirius sneered. "Do you think I want anything to do with any of you, now that my daughter has so obviously been rejected for no good reason? No, I'm leaving, thank you very much. But if this isn't taken care of-"

"It will be," the Auror reassured him, looking slightly anxious.

Sirius nodded curtly. "I appreciate your reassurance. Maybe it will restore some of my confidence in your blasted form of government if you can at least handle properly locking away criminals!" Sirius gave a resounding glare to the entire crowd, who looked both fearful and sympathetic at the same time. Right on cue, Hermione let out a heart wrenching sob. Turning on his heel, Sirius Apparated straight back to headquarters, Voldemort following suit.

* * *

Severus was just serving the two children hot tea in an effort to calm their anxieties when Sirius, Bella/Hermione in his arms, and Voldemort all Apparated directly back into the room. Severus almost dropped the tea; he immediately set it down, looking at the three expectantly.

Voldemort grinned. "Mission accomplished," he said, his voice overly gleeful. "Oh, that went perfectly- you have no idea-"

Sirius put Bella down and grinned at her. Severus couldn't resist asking. "What did you have to do to get her out?" He asked Sirius, knowing that the man had been planning for the moment.

Sirius smirked. "Had to pretend to be her dad," he said, laughing. "I thought I was pretty convincing, too. It was fun to yell. And you Bella- you were fantastic! Very convincing."

Voldemort nodded absent-mindedly, agreeing with their comments but too preoccupied with the fact that Dumbledore was going to be punished. There was no way he could not be. No matter what he plead, he had to be punished somehow. Unless they found some way around it, Wizarding law said that crimes such as the one Dumbledore had committed were signs of Dark magic and were punishable by imprisonment. If they exempted Dumbledore from this rule, Sirius had set it up perfectly so that he could sue in Wizarding courts. The day couldn't have gone better.

Just on time, Bella was turning back into herself. Voldemort noticed before anyone else and, knowing Bella wasn't srong enough to do it herself, waved his hand and her clothing turned back into her own robes. She nodded gratefully and grimaced as the transformation took place. Then she collapsed, exhausted, onto a chair and grinned at Harry and Hermione. "We did it," she said. "He's gone."

_Reviews are welcomed and appreciated._


End file.
